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Poem



A plastic shell, a humble, clunky friend, 
The cassette player till the very end. 
With buttons worn and maybe some dust ingrained, A portal to the music it contained.

The gentle hiss before the notes took flight, 
A tangible start in dim or vibrant light. 
The whirring spools, a mesmerizing spin, 
Unraveling melodies from deep within.

A mixtape crafted with meticulous care, 
Each chosen song, a sentiment to share. 
A love declared, a friendship celebrated, 
Emotions captured, carefully curated.

The click and clack of play, rewind, and pause, 
A physical dance, obeying music's laws.
The sudden stop, the need to flip the tape, 
Anticipation held within that shape.

Through teenage bedrooms, boomboxes would blare,
Sharing anthems on the youthful air.
In cars they rattled on long journeys made, 
Soundtracks to memories that would never fade.

Now digital streams flow with endless grace, 
The cassette player holds a different space. 
A nostalgic echo of a time gone by, 
When music felt more present to the eye.

So let us cherish this now vintage thing, 
For the simple joy the cassette used to bring. 
A poignant relic of a sonic past, 
Whose analog magic forevermore will last.

©bfa040525

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