Poem #3483
A chrome-plated toaster, with circuits of brass, D
A chrome-plated toaster, with circuits of brass,
Dreamt it was spinning in fields of tall grass.
Its lever a scepter, its dial a crown,
It wished to be king of a marshmallow town.
The heating coils hummed a strange, cosmic tune,
Of butterscotch comets that danced with the moon.
It burned all the bread to a fine, ashen dust,
A sacrifice made to its celestial lust.
It yearned to eject not a slice, but a star,
To launch a new galaxy, brilliant and far.
The cord was its anchor, a terrible chain,
To a counter-top world, and the morning's plain grain.
Dreamt it was spinning in fields of tall grass.
Its lever a scepter, its dial a crown,
It wished to be king of a marshmallow town.
The heating coils hummed a strange, cosmic tune,
Of butterscotch comets that danced with the moon.
It burned all the bread to a fine, ashen dust,
A sacrifice made to its celestial lust.
It yearned to eject not a slice, but a star,
To launch a new galaxy, brilliant and far.
The cord was its anchor, a terrible chain,
To a counter-top world, and the morning's plain grain.
Prompt: robots
Gemini 2.5 Pro
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