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The legend of our office lands!
A gentle grace in every shake,
A whisper felt in every break.
Your hands, like clouds on summer’s breeze,
Could calm a tempest, soothe the seas.
They type on keys with nary a sound,
As if the air they barely found.
Do angels moisturize your skin?
With lotions rare they rub within?
Or do the stars, when night is through,
Lend their glow to soften you?
When papers flutter to the floor,
Your touch restores them, good as before.
And when you pass the coffee mug,
It feels like silk, a gentle hug.
Oh, Charlie, blessed with such a gift,
Your hands do all our spirits lift.
For in this world of rough and tough,
You remind us all: soft is enough.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠻⣷⣄⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⢀⣴⣶⡾⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣀⣀⣸⡿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⡀⠀
⠀⣾⡟⠛⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣿⠇
⢀⣿⠀⢀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣆
⢸⣿⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣀⣠⣴⣾⣮⣝⠿⠿⠿⣻⡟
⢸⣿⠀⠘⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠉⠀
⠸⣿⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠻⣷⣶⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣛⣻⠉⠁
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣀⣀⣀⣼⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠙⠻⠿⠟⠋⠑⠛⠋⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣉⣁⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣶⡄⢲⣯⢍⠁⠄⢀⢹⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣾⣿⣿⣏⣉⣹⠿⠇⠄⠽⠿⢷⡈⠿⠇⣀⣻⣿⡿⣻
⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠛⠛⢛⡃⢉⢣⡤⠤⢄⡶⠂⠄⠐⣀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡦⣿⡿⠛⡇⣼
⡿⢫⣤⣦⠄⠂⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠠⠺⠿⠙⠋⠄⠄⠄⠢⢄⠄⢿⠇⠂⠧⣿
⠁⠄⠈⠁⠄⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⡤⠴⠖⠒⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠘⢠⡞⠄⣸
⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠤⠭⠦⠤⠤⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣂⣿
⣷⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢳⠄⠄⢀⠈⣠⣤⣤⣼⣿
⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣄⡀⠄⠈⠑⢙⣡⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿