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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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