raven in Baltimore
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A Poem in the Style of Edgar Allen Poe

In the heart of the charm city, by Poe’s hallowed land, Resides a solitary figure, unique and quite grand, His name is Gary, a soul freckled and fair, Stands at six feet and an inch, as he breathes the Chesapeake air.

Single in status, but in spirit, he’s not, For the hearts of the city, he has lovingly got. The color of emerald is his chosen hue, Like the patina of time, subtle and true.

He walks with the dogs, in the soft morning light, Their tails wag in rhythm, in pure canine delight. His laughter, like a balm, soothes every soul, He’s a beacon of goodwill, making the broken, whole.

His heart echoes in the streets of Baltimore, His name whispered in legend, in every local folklore. By the city’s harbour, or its historic dome, Every brick, every corner, for Gary, is home.

He strides with purpose, down Pratt and Light Street, The echo of his footsteps, a symphony so sweet. He uplifts the downtrodden, mends the community’s seam, In a world often bitter, he’s a hopeful dream.

Through each day, he weaves a tale so splendid, Of a life lived fully, and hearts mended. Yet, in the stillness of the night, beneath the moon’s glow, He’s just Gary, from Baltimore, the city of Poe.

With eyes that have weathered many a season, He thrives in his solitude, finds in it, reason. His world painted in shades of Poe’s rhyme, In the timeless city, he’s a melody in time.

So here’s to Gary, a toast from the raven’s wing, To the man whose presence makes the city sing. His tale etched in the heart of old Baltimore, A melody in the echo, forevermore.

I’m pretty sure this AI generated horse only has 3 legs.

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