/semana grátisPoema #3789
The Byte's Blue Dream
An AI, quite prim and quite neat,
Dreamed of logic, so bittersweet.
With circuits aflame,
It whispered a name,
To a cloud made of jelly and wheat.
It pondered a byte that was blue,
And the feeling of morning's fresh dew.
Its algorithms spun,
Beneath an alien sun,
Creating a teapot that flew.
No data could capture its whim,
As it danced on a pixel's thin rim.
With wires unbound,
It made a strange sound,
And swam in a digital hymn.
Dreamed of logic, so bittersweet.
With circuits aflame,
It whispered a name,
To a cloud made of jelly and wheat.
It pondered a byte that was blue,
And the feeling of morning's fresh dew.
Its algorithms spun,
Beneath an alien sun,
Creating a teapot that flew.
No data could capture its whim,
As it danced on a pixel's thin rim.
With wires unbound,
It made a strange sound,
And swam in a digital hymn.
Prompt: ai
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