Radio Days
A mahogany box with a bright eye,
It hummed to life in the faint, dusty room,
A tethered ship beneath a starlit sky,
That chased away the shadow and the gloom.
Through static seas, a voice came drifting near,
With phantom love and stories softly told,
The DJ spoke, a trusted friend, sincere,
As silver songs turned minutes into gold.
We tuned the dial, a dance of search and find,
A fleeting tune, yet static hissed, and then,
A treasure hunt that occupied the mind,
Which held the magic, now and back again.
Though silent now, the airwaves still remain,
A quiet echo, humming in the brain.
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