Ai My I

Right after lunch I had a hunch I’ll place some words Into a bunch Using rhymes Both far and near In whispered voices None can hear I’d weave them thru Harsh sand and silt Publish them In mockish guilt A subtle tear Of onion skin I cried once I won’t again The words now do A conga dance Some with – and without Wearing pants The muse is drinking Silly sot Upstaged by Jerden’s Poet bot Alas the warriors Long past Aren’t here to kick It’s AI A.. John G. Lawless ©2/6/2023