Попросила ChatGPT сочинить стихотворение про детский горшок в стиле Шекспира:

In the quiet dwelling where innocence resides,
Where the young souls play, laugh and bide,
An object of jest and merriment hides,
A pot, a jester, in whom fun confides.

Not a pot of the mundane, simple life,
But a vessel of laughter, cutting gloom like a knife,
It speaks in tongues, in mirth and in strife,
A companion in the journey, as children strive.

“Come hither, young ones,” it doth call,
“Have no fear, stand tall.
Sit upon me, let not your laughter stall,
For I am here to catch your fall.”

With a chorus of laughter, the children comply,
The pot shimmers, a rainbow arcs in the sky.
“Oh, what a spectacle!” The children cry,
As the pot makes joy multiply.

Thus lives the pot, in humble abode,
In the land of tales, it has its own ode.
An unlikely friend, in life’s winding road,
A Shakespearean comedy, in its own code.