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?
Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
but when the desire comes,
it is a tree of life...
... and we can eat from its branches endlessly!