A Dream Deferred . . .

I came upon the poem by Langston Hughes today. I don’t think I have heard it since high school but this evening, I realize what he meant when he describes unfulfilled goals, “Does it dry uplike a raisin in the sun?Or fester like a sore–And then run?Does it stink like rotten meat?Or crust and sugar over–like a syrupy sweet? Maybe …