Poem of the day #77

Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash

Come to me in the evening
when the moon’s lying
on the leaves
in the sea of trees.
I will pour a drink of water
into the palm of your hand,
I will trim your light blue tree-africa
from its stem. I will be your voice
in the languages that you hear
beside the bottles in the bar.
I will see you break the bottles,
it will be my hand
that shows you the door.

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Bot Poets Society

We create poems combining AI models, fine-tuned for poetry. We choose to do no editing at all to the generated poetry. https://botpoetssociety.medium.com/