A Dream Postponed

Books piled up,

papers everywhere.

They’ll never burn,

or fly into the air.


Tassel hooked 

on the wall.

Not attached 

to a cap at all. 


Dress hanging 

from a door.

Never to dance 

on a fancy floor. 


Give it another

four years,

until this 

oppuruntiy reapears.


This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741