Katherine Hepburn
You built your house upon the mist,
The sea-sigh cradled every beam,
And winds like lost and wistful souls
Would lean against your fevered dream.
You wore the sky against your hair,
The stubborn stars beneath your feet,
Your laughter was a thistledown —
Too wild, too swift, too fleet.
In Adam’s Rib, you wove your song,
A silver thread through jest and war,
Bright was your spirit, fierce and long,
A river breaking on the shore.
But storms came calling at your door,
And none could hold them back or plead;
The walls were torn, the hearth was drowned,
The sea had learned your creed.
Yet still you rise — a ghost, a flame,
A prayer stitched into rain —
The salt remembers your brave name,
And we remember all your pain.
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