In memory of Bob Gennusa (1937-2021)
Recordings have made him eternal.
Though he sings in heaven’s
Copacabana , snapping his fingers
to “That’s Life,” his voice
remains a road into our hearts
speaking what can’t be spoken
except in the language of song.
Sinatra covers the waterfront,
makes lovers out of strangers
in the night and insists New York
New York is a hell of a town. It is
a blessing of earthly life to share
with a friend Sinatra’s CD’s
filled with his musical faith
that, no matter the season,
love, like the summer wind,
remains in the wee small hours
of the morning, keeping us young
at heart, and flying us to the moon
where we can play among the stars.
Published in The Edison Review