Magic Of Tube Radio Poem by Albert Price

Does anybody remember tube radio?
They were wooden miracles to a little boy.
I could lean back and rest my elbow
On the veneer wood surface and enjoy.
I'd just spend some time in a casual way,
Amusing myself tuning the magic green eye.
The dream inducing music I found to play
Made trees out my window wave toward the sky.

The paradigm of the time was bebop jazz.
So the the console and I turned one another on.
Outside on the street was the worldly razzmatazz,
While I was musing away on the blue notes alone.
The joy of hearing Dizz, Ella and the Duke
Has been embedded in this curious mind.
But don't think I was an eccentric spook--
Just a spirit that only the radio could bind.