Ode To An Electric Sheep

O fluffy sheep, your wool is made of iron,
and yet the tungsten in your eyes burns bright.
The cud you chew so calmly...astroturf.
The feces that emerges has no smell.

You lack all hallmarks of a breathing beast,
and yet, I find your presence soothes my mind.
Perhaps my own existence differs slight.
My love for you: us two, two of a kind?

But when I wake each morning, you are gone
And I am once again all on my own.
To greener pastures, dear sheep, do you fly?
Or do you merely fear to greet the dawn?

Perhaps in charging slumber do you sit,
your mind escaped to wondrous other lands
to gambol with your robot ovine flock
in programmed pixel meadows filled with bytes.

Do not forget me when you wander off
I wait in patience here for your return.
For I have no place else that I can go,
no sweet uplinked arcadia waits for me.

--a collaboration between kleenexwoman and anivad