I asked AI to write a poem about our beloved Cribby:
Cribby," a word worn smooth with time,Can hold a world within its rhyme.
A child's first cot, with bars so tall,A haven safe, where dreams enthrall.A cozy nook, tucked warm and deep,Where slumber's secrets softly keep.
For card sharks too, a different scene,Fives and sixes, a royal queen.Points and pegging, strategy's sway,A game of wit, where fortunes play.
But deeper still, the word may delve,To hidden meanings, rarely delve.A stable small, where horses rest,Or weathered shack, put to the test.
And sometimes, "cribby" holds a plight,Of cramped confinement, dimmed by night.A feeling trapped, with wings unfurled,Longing for freedom in the world.
So listen close, when "cribby" calls,It whispers tales from shadowed halls.Of beginnings, games, and shelters tight,And hidden depths beneath the light.