A Romanian gentleman who played piano
as we drifted down the Danube
for seven days and seven nights.
And every night I sat as close as could be.
On occasion he sang along,
without a hint of his Slavic accent.
He played Elton, Billy Joel, and Tina Turner’s
Rolling Down the River (which I loved).
Many songs concluded with a glissando,
that swift, controlled use of his fingers—
flair to accompany a coy smile.
Yes, I did think it was expressly for me.
On our last night, he stopped playing,
rose from his bench and sat by my side.
Genadiy leaned in and spoke so softly,
said he loved my very short hair—
You need the right face to wear hair so short—.
the shape of your head is perfect.
That one took me by surprise.
A compliment, nonetheless.
As we stood to part for that final time,
he bowed his head, took my hand and kissed it.
Julie Standig
Julie Standig’s poetry has appeared in Schuylkill Valley Journal, Sadie Girl Press Gyroscope Review and many others. She is the author of two books, The Forsaken Little Black Book , Memsahib Memoir and working on something new,.
A lifelong New Yorker she now happily resides in Bucks County.