Poetry by Harold Strauss
When I see the sunlight filter through the foliage
And fall across your face
I think back to the 80’s
And the river where we met.
I had my Walkman by Panasonic on my chest.
It was that RQ-SX91 in Gold that you called “haughty.”
And I told you there’s no sense in playing Mahler
On anything less.
You laughed at me. And, as if in retaliation, I asked what you were reading
But you never showed me. You just dipped your feet into the river,
And launched into the water. Leaving your towel behind on the grass.
I watched you as I moved from my towel
And I’ve been there ever since.