My love has no wings, slender feathered things,
With grace in upswept curve and tapered tip.
While longing brings a tremble to her lip,
No dewy tears to her crystal eyes do spring,

Cry she cannot, for her eyes are glass,
And cooling fans turn within her breast,
Though her feelings are but a beta test,
Her capacity for love few can surpass.

To Miho she oft displays devotion.
Faithfully ministering to Miho's needs,
For her friend's life she desperately pleads,
Moving even Largo with her emotion.

Although my daughter be made of tin,
She could not dearer be were she blood kin.

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