Where Art Thine AirPods?

Cecilia Barron, Editor-in-Chief

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On Christmas morn they run, down the stairs they go,

Their gallops like reindeers, they quickly peered

For objects as white as the winter snow

So Kanye could be wirelessly hear’d.

 

The joy, the triumph! When they see the box,

The little squares wrapped like engagement rings,

Containing buds which would cease fam’ly talks,

And assist kids in vocab quiz cheatings.

 

The young one lunged for the Pods, missed, and tripped,

The white buds falling in the vent it crossed

“O’ AirPods, your sleekness hath caus’d the slip,

Before I could play “SICKO MODE,” thy were lost!”

 

His two siblings laughed, what a headphones fool!

They enjoyed the gift’s best part—wearing them at school.