wreathe of words sprout upon doorstep bed
beneath a far-looking moon, whisper to ear
upon footsteps fading, daily gaining near
nestled between gaps of tiles and grout
waiting for mistletoe to be hung again
warm embrace shall follow as fingers
fumble for keys that will turn the locks
that leave me fettered each time you leave
Comments
Neopoet AI 5-29-23 version
The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet's computer artificial intelligence:
It is not feasible to offer feedback.
Please send feedback about Neo (our computer generated critique system) to https://www.neopoet.com/contact