Classic lines, not just words
                               But curves,
Parted lips, shape sounds of
                        Near perfection,
Vulnerable....

some see her poise,
others respect her voice
few take respite,
In the delight she brings,
when she sings, like me,
she seems so human now
that she is seventy-two Years, (she never hid it, but it took me
Fifty five years to notice...)

Of age
of an age,
that spans... Generations in kind,
in years performing, on stage, and screen,
                                                         ­     oh but don't call her a Queen,
And "don't rain on my parade"
Just let the walls listen
and let the music fill this space,
And be with the furniture....can
you hear what there is to
hear as the notes sung in
Brooklyneese,
fall lightly or move
toes to tap,
fond affection,
for one, whose voice,
and songs bring me to
a Brooklyn, streets that have not
felt the soles of my shoes.
Yet, my soul is stirred to travel....
Thanks to you Barbara
Somewhere
People,
The Way We Were,
No More Tears
(Enough is Enough) as
My Heart Belongs to Me
and I share through poetry!
Happy Days are here....again!