Oh, Han Solo
You were my first love;
You, Han Solo
You were the first grown up man
To catch my eye.
Your fantastic hair,
Your rakish smirk,
Your roguish ways
And devil-may-care attitude
What more could a five-year-old girl want?
Not only were you handsome
And far more manly than Luke Skywalker,
You owned your own spaceship,
Your second in command was a big hairy beast,
And, you could do the Kessel Run in under twelve parsecs!
You weren’t only brave
You were fearless.
You weren’t simply snarky,
You were downright rude.
And, yet there was a nobility
That shone through.
You weren’t just in it for the money.
You were a good man
Who had found a good cause.
You were all that a man should be:
With great hair!
And, you were all the things a young girl desires in a man
Even though they are probably no good for her:
You, Han Solo, became for me that ideal to which I compared actual men.
That picture perfect man
Beautiful and completely unattainable.
You were my clever, handsome bad boy rogue, who I could never have
Permeating sexual magnetism; using it as a shield to keep others out.
You were a good man; a good flawed man
Making his way in the world
By his skill and wit
A reluctant hero
Willing to fight for a cause
A cause that didn’t always seem winnable.
And, able to make the Kessel Run in under twelves parsecs.