For The Tomboy Who Liked To Call Herself Jimmy Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Katharine Hepburn at her chiselled youthful best
Frankly, wasn't she eye-catching in a peculiar way?
Her eyes, their gaze, unashamedly transfixed me.
It was a spell just anticipating where next -
They would jolt and come to rest. To me
She seemed otherworldly, like a cannonball that's
About to be fired - not in anger or destruction.
Simply to astonish and awaken the dulled senses
Simply as to jettison through the stratosphere,
Show that any one of us can fly and be immortally idolised.

Hepburn was a force of nature, a precious talent.
She was like a bushfire burning out of pure devilment.
Or smiling with satisfaction at a tempestuous hurricane
That would righteously carve its unique path.
Hepburn was a woman I came to greatly admire.
She was to epitomise the 20th century, the 'modern woman'.
In the United States, but she was more than that?
She was an assertive woman, a torchbearer for the future.
She was indeed headstrong and spirited and yet grounded.
And yet thought while taking her daily ice baths,
'The more bitter the medicine, the better it was for you.'