91 years
since you were born,
many costumes
have you worn.

Shirley Temple look-alike,
in ballerina gear.
Treasured only child,
at tea with Teddy Bear.

Daddy was a Mountie,
moving post-to-post.
Western town to western town,
then homeward to the coast.

Mummy groomed you well
primped lady from little girl.
Elegance in voice and pose
was her special goal.

The popular girl in school
you sang, acted, and played.
Music and singing passions,
a future might be made.

But middle-age
turned light to dark,
dulled existence’s shine
and dimmed the spark.

Present life wore you down
success went past-tense.
You gave up the reins
and jumped the fence.

I think yours was
a lonely life,
either in a crowd
or by yourself.

Were your highs and lows
just misunderstood?
Were you seen
the way you should?

I’m still trying to meet you
and steel our connection,
with no story to follow
but instinctive direction.

I see beauty in your eyes
(a colour we share)
I wish I could have learned from you
while you still were there.

Photos and blurry films of you
all whispering to me.
Immortalized on Kodak film,
Angela shines for all to see.