You snapped your fingers as a flash of inspiration struck, and down to the tablet to write.
If the sphinx wanted something of value, then maybe you can try winning her over with a sonnet.
Your fingers danced across the tablet, scribbling furiously as you poured your heart into the poem.
In the realm where riddles dance on golden sand,
A creature wise, with eyes that hold the night,
A sphinx, mysterious, in moonlight grand,
A puzzle master, silent in her might.
Her gaze, a blend of ancient mystic lore,
Concealing secrets deep within her eyes,
Each question posed, a challenge to explore,
A labyrinth of truth that never lies.
Yet, in her presence, love begins to bloom,
A paradox of passion, wild and rare,
Her enigma whispers through the gloom,
A symphony of riddles in the air.
O Sphinx, my heart, entangled in your spell,
In love's conundrum, let our spirits dwell.
When you had finished, you laid the pen on the tablet satisfied with what you had written, and awaited the Sphinx's response.
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