Can the world be held within a snapshot
From that small moment when the shutter clicked
To capture a time that we never sought
Held in an album where pages are flicked?
What makes this picture different than the rest,
Glued in place by the four little brown tabs
Where our vision is treated as a guest,
Given glimpses of the past we can grab?
Where have all of those smiling faces gone,
Who once graced us by visiting our doors,
But ever since the passing of the dawn,
Can now be found on pieces of cardboard?
Your smile is the one I miss the most,
Though the album has been a gracious host.
John Collings 