I’ve only just recovered from the shock,
You’d been to visit friends
Talked across a range of interests,
Smiled, a mind full of this and that,
And an engaging point of view.
Sat down to watch your favourite show
And passed without warning.
Theo bereft, as we who knew you.
I can only now put pen to paper.
Little did I know as I stood
Chatting to you in the foyer
Of the Tower Cinema,
Celebrating cinematic news.
Foreign, art house films
Are now to screen once again.
Not under your watchful eye,
You have gone.
When I reflect you looked a little pale,
Probably tired from still giving so much to this place.
Were we too excited, hearts racing arrhythmically?
I could be sure as I handed over my $8,
When better films were showcased.
She’d lean close, tell me the truth.
‘You won’t like this one, be warned.’
‘I’ll risk it, David gave four stars.’
As I blink from dreaming in the dark,
Binning rubbish out of consideration,
‘Well what do you think?’ she waits.
Face open to what I might say.
‘It went on too long, so indulgent,
I’m a little tired of the French.’
‘Never mind, I think you’ll like
Spike Lee’s latest, opens Thursday.
Aren’t you due a free ticket? Remind me.’
A woman with no time for chitchat
Small matters, wasting precious words.
A powerhouse in a tiny frame.
Ageless, driven, opinionated,
Dressed in flowing rainbow skirts,
Feet in ballet slippers, and that triumph of a car.
Offended some, pops up from row behind
Reveals the plot, ‘don’t miss this bit’.
No breastfeeding mothers allowed.
Not anti the young, rollerblades
And campaigns for skateparks,
Plight of women in spiky heels,
On dodgy pavers Hunter St Mall.
Shares grief over beloved dogs and pets,
I met Carmella and a cat at death’s door.
While celluloid ran with other dramas,
It expired in the box office.
My thoughts have been silenced,
No one cares what I think
Or what I might see.
A passion for movies gave Margaret
What she gave to me.
There are voices I’m missing,
And sadly hers is one more.