Cassette

You pick the plastic square up,
and thought it impossible
how your parents used to listen
to these.
How treasured songs,
Promises of love,
Were stored on something so cheap.
What was so special about this player,
This flimsy music box kept for decades?

You fumbled and pried the door,
Fumbling with the tape,
The cassette, until it slides in.
Pressing play, nothing happened.
Of course! Batteries!

No charging here.
Taking some from the remote,
You try again. Hearing the
Motor sputtering to life
And gears whirled,
Fading into a queen’s perfect voice.

Entranced: you sit and listen,
The small crackling drawing you in,
The imperfections make it true.
You focus and let the passing phone dings,
Pass by.