Of Clockwork Mice and Men
Isabelle's got panache—
She'll shake your hand and thank you
For helping her in any way you may have
Or even lie if she's got to.
But Hugo's more clandestine
And the secrets come easily.
It's difficult to be open when you're shut
Up in walls all day.
But a movie's no movie
If it doesn't have the star
And he's neither of these two.
The real star's the creator of dreams and
Master of surreal reality,
And it's all because of a toy mouse
And a notebook
And a mechanical man
And one brave boy
With a penchant for taking things
That didn't belong to him
And making them beautiful.
A/N I have a habit of coming up with a title before even considering the body of a piece. This is one of those. This is also my first poem to be published on here and my first work for Hugo. I think I was more inspired by the book, which I preferred to the movie (with the obvious exception of Asa Butterfield's eyes, which were nowhere to be found in the book), but as I'm sure you'll see, bits of it are more movie than book. Why is this? Because it was nearly midnight when this came falling clumsily onto my keyboard as I worked on something else. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed it, it's awfully short, but I'd love to hear what you have to say and not only welcome, not only encourage, more like adore reviews, so don't hesitate.
I hadn't planned on publishing this, really, but I was itching to publish something and couldn't concentrate on other things I was supposed to be doing, like other stories I really ought to be updating, so I'm just throwing this at you, Internet. Also, I absolutely positively do not in any way own The Invention of Hugo Cabret or Hugo. All characters and related are used without permission and no harm or profit is intended. Please don't sue me, I'm just a fan.
Au revoir, Planet Enchilada