Jan 26
1 min read
The Coldest Campfires
A Poem GPCHAT could not produce
Sit by the fire … till you’re tired in the face
kiss those little whiskers … while sipping whiskey
Drive the cattle … home and things — niche your heels in space
ride the snow hills deep … when you get frisky
Take your long legs out for a walk
swat the stars and moon if you can reach them
but…
