ODE TO FRANK SINATRA

In the wee small hours of the morning, in the still of the night, I thought about you.

What’ll I do? I couldn’t sleep a wink last night. Without a song, I’ll never smile again. The song is you.

After you’ve gone, a hundred years from today, how do you keep the music playing? Sunday, Monday or always, day in, day out, there will never be another you. All the things you are? I could write a book.

You make me feel so young. Night and day, day by day, I’m getting sentimental over you. You’re sensational, too marvelous for words. I’ve got you under my skin. Call me irresponsible, I get a kick out of you.

I wish you love, the best of everything, a pocket full of miracles, from here to eternity, all the way.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas. I’ll be seeing you.

BILL DYER

Venice