As I Grew Older

It was a long time ago.
I have almost forgotten my dream.
But it was there then,
In front of me,
Bright like a sun–
My dream.
And then the wall rose,
Rose slowly,
Between me and my dream.
Rose until it touched the sky–
The wall.
I am black.
I lie down in the shadow.
No longer the light of my dream before me,
Above me.
Only the thick wall.
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Break through the wall!
Find my dream!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
To smash this night,
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun,
Into a thousand whirling dreams
Of sun

© 2012, Langston Hughes. All rights reserved.

Cher Duncombe (3 Posts)

Conveying emotions through word images is something I have long loved. I describe it as word-painting, sometimes Impressionistic like Monet and sometimes bold and obtuse like Picasso.


  1. If those words were a painting they would hang in the Museum Of Fine Arts.

    • Cher Duncombe (Author)

      Dan, you are so right. What a wonderful writer….

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