Eleanor
‘I’m Prue,’ she yelps, and arms she swings,
flapping in this wind her wings.
And then moves forward on high heels,
in way to many must appeal.
She’s tall and pretty, movie star,
a pot of honey without tar.
The man seems taken by her looks,
like prince charming in those books.
She almost trips, he holds her still,
and aids her on her way uphill.
‘Well, hi there, honey!’ she spots me sitting.
I know not why, but my teeth are gritting.
There’s something ‘bout her sweet demeanor
that makes me feel like bins are cleaner
than her heart, her words, her soul…
This strikes alert! What’s her goal?
‘My name is Prue, and what is yours?’
It’s strange! Why me she not ignores?
People with her looks are danger,
even more when they are a stranger.
I cough quick ‘Ella’ and turn to him,
The George? The Sam? The Bob, the Jim?
Whoever is he, I don’t care,
he’s much more friend than this miss hair
of shining darkness,
cheeks of roses…
The queen of Earth, the way she poses.
‘The Sun is setting!’ I distract,
to striking orange looks attract.
We stare a moment, two and three,
but cannot nature end her glee.
‘So, what shall now we set our sights
on, as start to dim the lights?
And, dear sir, what is your game…
Why would you not tell me your name?’
‘The name is Jackson,’ he says, quite coldly,
‘does not matter, unless you sold me
a way back Earth just for my name,
if not, lets shut our mouths and aim,
our new direction… may I suggest?
That freaking thing,’
I look, impressed.
As darkness fell, a light appeared,
a beam, perhaps, man engineered?
It shoots right up, from ground to sky,
not far away, but miles grows high.
‘We must go there!’ I say, and hope,
like trap, my father it must rope.
Jackson
I know her type, somewhat, she’s crazy:
laying there, she was not lazy!
Seeking thrills, even if kills
her fall from height,
it’s her delight.
Could in such bad care I leave,
this girl, so young, so damn naïve?
We reach that light that aims for sky,
beautiful, but asking why,
it leaves me, as I drop her on
to sit on one of nearby stone,
and head on forward, mesmerized,
and energized, and terrorized,
by this sight, godly, blinding:
to all the humans, greatest finding.
Step and step, I forward sneak,
as if some ninja technique,
could prevent my harm,
as if my charm,
could keep my life,
leave me unharmed.
I want to touch the light, the might,
but desires I must fight…
Up pick I branch, just the right height
to penetrate that bright white light.
But it’s SOLID, how can this be?
I must recheck, I must it feel!
So dangerous… though is to touch!
Too dangerous – way too much!
‘Anyone who wants to try
to touch this thing, it’d sure be fly.’
I speak, quite quiet, knowing well,
if they offered, would be tough sell,
to have me put their life before,
this thing I am, what I abhor.
But my importance’s oversold,
the girl I carried, much more bold.
As I look, her hand’s already,
in that light and holding steady.
She turns to me, carries a smile:
signaling that no hostile
forces have her on a trial.
‘Tickles it!’ She calls, and places
two hands there, and light she faces
without worry, without care
seemingly quite unaware,
that as I’m standing here and stare,
doing tricks, is her blonde hair.
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