Radio

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  • Memories

    Radio

    The year 1939 Her voice one to change the world..
    Crackling songs and men so bold..
    Yester year I've been told..

    Her eyes a earthen brown her voice came
    out like a baritone..

    Her shape that one could not forget, tho
    many have tried to imitate..

    She gave us hope and laughter..
    We cried when the world weeped..
    And songs we all sang and danced to..

    Her heart was just a tube
    EV5GI I think..

    Powered by touch and the wanting to know..
    She forged the human race..

    I have fond memories of her veneer frame..
    Her varied shapes and different names..
    Crosley, Fada, Silvertone to name a few..

    Her voice is still a welcome turn of knob,
    and a ear to the speaker..

    If you haven't heard her singing and tapped your feet
    listened to Hitler's defeat..
    Watched the dail light up and her tubes warming,
    the wonderful glow from a small hidden bulb..

    She will just sit there waiting
    for your loving touch..

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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