Aura Thundera
deonii@yahoo.com
I went to the Rogue's bunks
My companion waited there
A new-made Rogue he was
To fill an empty place.
The place left by an elder Rogue
Who fell in battle a week ago.
Three small men sprawl on a bunk
Half-clothed from the shower
And heroes of the Alliance
One dusky, brown-eyed,
With sabacc cards in his hand
It seems-Wedge Antilles-
Is a true Corellian in that!
A second and no taller, but
Rather wider in the shoulders
With a shock of black hair
And electric blue eyes, that
Turned to appraise me
And his gaze made me flush-
So it is! That the Tanaabian
Should be more a ladies' man
Than a Corellian, my lesson here
That stereotypes are no good!
Oh, that heartbreaker of Tanaab!
I can understand, why every girl
Wants to love Wes Janson!
The third is shy in sweetness,
And does not look at me, for
His head is bent over his cards
As Wedge whispers in his ear-
He must be learning to play sabacc.
He has long fair curls to his shoulders
And sapphire eyes, eyes that laugh
Eyes I never thought that I should
See this close for myself, for he is
The Hero of Yavin--Luke!
I flush still darker, at his prescence,
And I turn away from the bunks
I face a 'fresher door, 'tis safe
No handsome Rogue here
To drive me wild, as they do
To me and to the women of the base
I watch the door, safe boring door,
And try to compose my thoughts--
Which way was my lover's bunk?
The bunk where my man,
My ordinary, accessible pilot,
Waits for me, to meet him this night.
I'm ready to go on, now the door opens
And what is there to see...
But a frontal assault, on myoverloaded senses
From yet another handsome Rogue!
And this one still less clothed!
Slicked blonde hair, gleams in the light,
And diamond water drops sparkle
Down a chest, sculpted marble and silk
Dripping down rippling muscle
To be caught in a fluffy white towel
Wrapped about his narrow hips.
His face is noble, fine, so
Full and handsome, perfect...but
Beyond a Rebel girl's reach,
Too refined, meant for nobility,
For this is Tycho Celchu,
Handsome Rogue Supreme!
I stammer something, turn and flee
I cannot look on my lover after that
I cannot try to compare,
My ordinary man, to
That perfection, forbidden fruit!
The Rogues are the property of Lucasfilm Ltd. I am not making money off this.