I was just fifteen
when he burst on the scene.
Could there have been
a more perfect age
for falling in love with Elvis?
The curl of his lip.
the twist of his hip,
the way he let rip –
the whole world a stage
for showcasing beautiful Elvis.
And how he could sing!
Let angelic choirs ring,
they don’t do a thing
compared with The King.
The voice of the age
will always and only be Elvis.
For Day 3 of PAD at Poetic Asides, we are asked to make a musical artist the title of the poem.
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