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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

Copyright © John lawless

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