The Pen and the Circuit
In a cozy nook, with papers piled high,
A mother writes tales where dreams can fly.
Her pen dances across the page,
Crafting worlds, turning each stage. Her son, in the room next door,
Builds robots on the creaky floor.
Sparks and wires, gears that whir,
In his eyes, a future blur. "Mom, look! It moves and blinks!"
He proudly shows his latest links.
She smiles, a pen tucked in her hair,
And dreams of robots in her lair. "My dear," she says with a glint in her eye,
"Your robots would surely make them fly!"
He laughs, knowing well her plots are grand,
Where machines and heroes walk hand in hand. Together they spin tales and dreams,
Of circuits buzzing and magic beams.
A writer's heart, a builder's mind,
In their world, both are entwined. So here's to the pen and the circuit bright,
To stories woven in the dead of night.
A mother and son, each a creator,
Crafting futures, sooner or later. _A...
