What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like 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 it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Harlem is a poem by Langston Hughes.
Answer:
The bridge is out near my house; meanwhile, it takes me twice as long to get to school.
Explanation: