Hugh Minn was human so he lived on Earth,
been living there ever since his birth.
He may have preferred to live somewhere else but he never said.
Who knows what goes on in Hugh Minn’s head?
Pastry pale, like he worked in a bank,
he was in the navy till his boat sank.
One day he heard feet shuffling about on the floor of his loft.
He stepped up a ladder, nervously coughed.
He asked who was there but got no reply,
beamed his torch in the loft to aid his eye,
saw a small bulbous man in a silver helmet and dark blue smock,
thought if he was from space, he’d chosen the wrong place to dock.
The alien seemed to think the same, vanished into another time.
Hugh Minn stepped down the ladder, and that’s almost all there is to say
about him in this present rhyme.
“What have you been doing up the ladder?”
asked his neighbour, Sydney Smout,
who as ever looked perplexed, well wrinkled with doubt.
“Heard a noise in the loft,” answered Hugh Minn.
“You know you cannot lose if you try to win.
Met a multi-dimensional time traveller,
landed in the loft by accident.”
“If you say so, Minn,” said his neighbour,
who seemed to know what he meant.
“If you live in a forest you’re bound to see a lot of trees,”
he added, as he fumbled in his pocket for his keys.
“Another way of seeing it, come to that,
if you live among high hills you’re bound
not to see much lying flat.”
Back in his room, Hugh Minn sipped a mug of tea,
studied his book of astronomy.
Meanwhile, the alien flew home safely in his craft.
Over his Earth encounter, he smiled and laughed.