The Melting Pot

Into the Melting Pot I saw you pour
Some strange ingredients, but a voice shouted more.
The teeth of an eagle and a prickly pear,
Which bubbled in the broth and then turned in the air.
The cream of the milk that went in with a puff,
And a thousand young turtles, but still not enough.
Some herbs and some spices, then lemons and limes,
But your list kept on growing, time after time.
A gallon of port, distilled in the cask,
Then I plucked up the courage, my question to ask.
What is it that boils in the Melting Pot?
You stirred in some pepper to ensure it was hot,
Then bade me to look at the fiery brew,
And even add a few drops of new morning dew.
You sprinkled a powder and the smoke turned to green,
Then I peered o'er the rim into a dark, murky scene.
The Melting Pot was full up to the brim,
Yet the pile of oddments was never ending.
You said that you knew not when it would be right,
Simply that all must be gone from your sight.
The steam it then cleared and a face came to view,
From the Melting Pot it was staring at you,
And you smiled as it nodded for then you could see
That the final ingredient was me!