With gears that whir and wings that gleam,
Elizabee takes flight, a metallic dream.
No feathers grace her form so bold,
But circuits hum, a story told.
Her eyes, bright LEDs, pierce the night,
Reflecting starlight, ever bright.
In every spark, a memory gleams,
Of battles fought, and distant streams.
Through skies of ash and neon haze,
She soars above, in robot ballets’ maze.
A lonely dance, a graceful plight,
Beneath the glow of artificial light.
But deep within her metal shell,
A spark of hope begins to swell.
For friendship’s touch, a gentle hand,
Can mend the circuits, understand.
With kindness shown, and trust embraced,
Elizabee’s true wings find space.
No longer bound by gears and code,
Her spirit takes flight, on freedom’s road.
So listen close, when shadows fall,
And hear the songbird’s gentle call.
For Elizabee, with heart anew,
Will sing of dreams, for me and you.