By Nirokhi Raychaudhuri.
Listen to me, but look not, homme d’affaires.
I’ve sat on the corner of Broadway and
23rd gathering a few layers;
Dust with saccharine velvet on my hands.
A century of melodies ago,
I saw a few of you delight in me,
Drapes of silk, coats of gold, crystals aglow,
A palace where there was no monarchy.
Exhibit those silver stars and starlets,
As pianist glided in corner seat.
In my youth, I needed no amulets,
I was your church, screen god for all to meet.
Then, I knew them all, the eye lash Davis,
And that darling face of swashbuckling Flynn,
He pressed his lips on de Havilland bliss,
The violet gaze of Taylor then begins,
To fade into a honey golden mush.
Forget not those couples hand in hand,
Forget not the child in two-hour hush,
Who I housed in my moving picture land.
Never have I been a cinémathèque,
But entrepreneur, do listen in,
Don’t love me yesterday, I am your kin.