My Convener

Staring at the space
My mind was on a race
It gave a pace
My tongue could not trace

Tracy was her name
And I thought she was lame
But she changed my direction
And divided my ambition

My mother once told us
With her hands on her tray
“A future hiatus
Would blacken its status”

She’d placed her hands on my back
To pull off my rucksack
And asked, “My son
What happened to the dream deferred?
Would it fade off like the ones you had?
Or explode someday like a raisin in the sun?”

Then I cried, “I have a dream
But seems extreme!”
She looked at me and asked her mate,
“Is it too much to be great?”
Then read out her quote with one hand on her waist:
Make your determination obdurate
Cause you’ve got destinies to locate!