Strawberries & Robots
In Grandma’s garden, wild and free,
Where blossoms dance and bend with glee,
A fruity world, a wonderland,
With vines that twist and roots that stand.
Between the peaches, apples bright,
And rows of greens in golden light,
A curious hum began to grow—
A sound both new and strangely low.
From metal limbs and gears so tight,
The robots wandered, beaming bright.
With blinking...