Captive Twelve Year Old

Her eyes say she must not emote
Dining with parents, stiff, proper.
Probably twelve and posh school.
But she catches my eye
Trying not to show
Desperation
In a controlled day
A controlled meal.
A controlled life.
I hear the name Eleanor
Please eat up.
‘The concert is in forty-five.’
Hair auburn and piled at the back.
Single pearl pendant.
Maroon dress cut far too long.
I see those legs in muddied shorts
Other times.
Down by the Creek alone.
Setter dog General
Playing in the reeds.
A pause as mallards
Wing whistle overhead.
Rumbling thunder interrupting.
Parents will be upset.
Whether to stay, and delight in a soaking.
(Or to lower head and run home?)
Nah, that would take another Life.
Another chance.
She winks at me.
And I, likewise.