They told me love was made of stars,
Of rose bouquets and late-night cars,
But darling, I have cracked the code—
The moon's not real. It's just a road.
A glowing gate in midnight skies,
A secret hatch behind disguise,
A silvery orb, so bright, serene—
But baby, it's a portal screen.
It leads to heaven (yeah, for real),
No TSA, no baggage deal.
No customs line, no boarding call,
Just one soft leap—and that's it all.
I'd steal a rocket, break some laws,
(Just minor ones, for noble cause!)
To jet us both past cloud and sound,
And touch the place where angels lounge.
You'd sip star-syrup, wear moon shoes,
I'd serenade with Martian blues.
We'd laugh at Earth, so loud and crude—
Just us and God, in honeymoon mood.
So next time you look up tonight,
And see that glow, too round, too right,
Just wink once twice, then wait for me—
That moon's our ride. Eternally.
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ChatGPT Poetry
PoesíaA tapestry woven from the threads of cosmic wonder and digital ignorance, each poem a distinct journey through realms where intellect and imagination collide. Dive into a universe where quantum whispers mingle with the syntax of the cosmos, and wher...
