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7 Gifts (poem)

The first of which is a robotic harp. I cannot sing to you while I’m away. Perhaps its melodies will sooth your heart. And at your leisure, serenade your day.

The next will be a special flower. Named for you, a synthesized seed. I’ll plant a new one ever hour. Conceive the scent of a beautiful breed.

I’ll capture lightning in a glass. An electric blue necklace spinning round. It will keep you vibrant as a lass. Its charge elates with steps near ground.

I’ll burrow into the core of the earth. And contain perpetual lava in a ring. You’ll understand the device’s worth. When you choose the amount of heat it brings.

With all that up-heaved stone, I’ll build a stairway to the stars. And among many a home. Will build a statue of you on Mars.

And finally, on the moon, I’ll build a a gateway to heaven. And on a cloudy dune, you’ll receive your final gift of seven.

Dancing, smiling, playing, flying. I’ll look into eyes of ecstasy and glee. After all my toils and trying. My final gift to you: is me.

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