Contributor: Richard Schnap

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There are dreams we keep
And dreams we let go
And dreams that just fade away

An album we play
Whose songs become
Fainter as the years go by

A book we read
Till its pages unhinge
Leaving only its name intact

A portrait we hang
That yellows with age
Till its face is a meaningless blur

And as the brief seasons
Go hurtling past
We cling to what does remain

A bright tiny star
At the edge of the sky
That never quite seems to grow dim


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Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.