Hard enough to shine by your side
Let alone paint with words your wit and stride
How could anyone paint the Martinelli?
The one in black tights, tux and flat belly
Would I start with your fingers or toes?
Or maybe your perfectly chiseled plastic surgeon nose
What about your silver bangled hand?
Covered in ballpoint penned notes never sun tanned
Shall I mention your black Audrey Hepburn Tiffany fur rimmed hat?
Your Chinese over-sized smoking jacket ~ sleeves painted with Siamese cat
You jingled and jangled long after you left with many a poignant point
Impatiently hanging on the tip of your tongue or swinging passionately on your wrist joint
To your fencing sharp wit
Most all had a fit
Of course always appropriately dear . . .
No one else could ever come near

I want to talk about you ~ the one I knew
And a memorable Peggy Lee night
With a legend so dear and nothing severe
It was a step-back in time an evening sublime in an intimate Fairmont lounge
You knew almost all the words
Songs that torched the war in the ‘40’s
Miss Lee came out solo on a low-spot stage
She was sultry and sexy and didn’t show her age
When she opened the show with FEVER the crowd was a hush

We never knew how much she loved us
We never knew how much she cared
When she put her arms around us
There was a FEVER that was hard to bear

Candles on each table filled the room with a low-glow flicker
As the legend icon sat at the mike still givin’ us a genuine kicker

In the midst of amazing history we over heard Dad shyly whisper, “That’s my Baby!”

Of course he remembered her
Singing with Goodman
Even hugging her back stage
Framing her Treasure Island autograph from the 1939 World’s Fair

Can’t remember what iconic outfit Martinelli you wore to this memorable event
It wasn’t something you usually created a piece of art that made a big dent
I can’t even find a photo of this incredibly surreal night
Yet it burns an indelible fever in my soul with all its’ might