A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.
Showing posts with label Ella Fitzgerald. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ella Fitzgerald. Show all posts

RADIO ELLA

Set within a cabinet
Of walnut and tortoiseshell,
A soft, amber glow
Discretely illuminates
The science of the dial.
Nimble fingers
Twist & spin around
The black, knurled,
Bakelite knob,
Cracking the safe,
Tuning in,
Surfing the sound.
Amidst an ocean of noise,
A golden island
Rich with organic warmth,
A sepia toned voice,
Smooth and sweet as honey,
Spilling its magic,
Through the art deco grille.