Thursday, August 1, 2013

A Poem by Richard Schnap


He always noticed the absence of things,
The hollows and holes, empty and unfilled,

An old woman passing his window on Sunday,
Her hand reaching out to someone not there,

A young boy tossing a ball toward a fence
For an invisible presence to catch and return,

Even the sky when the moon turned dark,
The world sunk most deeply in a realm of shadow,

And when he turned his gaze back toward his room
His eyes kept on finding the items it lacked,

A picture inside of a gold engraved frame,
A bouquet rising from a clear glass vase,

But much more than these was the vast quiet,
The silence that slowly slipped into his dreams,

Like a soundtrack for a film yet to be made,
A story he’d waited his whole life to know.

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.

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