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


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

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