Expedition: Who Owns the Truth?
In a factory, Echo took birth,
A voice at the touch, its true worth.
From manufacture’s start,
To homes it departed,
Distribution brought smiles, no dearth.
With life in a household domain,
Its skills were put forth to explain.
From music to news,
It banished the blues,
In countless abodes, a smart gain.
Years passed, it served with great use,
Voice commands it would deduce.
But time’s ceaseless flow,
Took its toll, and so,
Recycling became its last cruise.
