Oh science class
Sitting in our schoolish chairs
Trying to write a poem
A poetic poem
And R. says
T.! Stop whatever you're doing! My back hurts! What should I do if my back hurts?
And T. replies
Here. I'll just punch your spine.
Sure.
With your Cheeto dust fingers from R.'s bag of Cheetos.
So yeah.
That's my very poetic poem.
I hope you liked it.
The smell of books
Is something that AI can't replace
It's comforting to curl up with a book
On a cold winter day
Or any day
And the smell of the pages
Completes the scene
Rain is often thought of as grey
But in spring
It just brings out the colors
The grass gets greener
The flowers bloom brighter
And when the sun comes out again
The colors feel even stronger
Colors of nature
Blooming with joy and beauty
The flowers of spring
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