AI poetry version of Magic and it's colors

clarity:

✨ The Colors of Magic By Jessy Jacob

They say I’ve got jadoo in my fingers�" A little mischief, a little zing. A funny tale for my son to hear, And for those who want to learn a thing.

We’re not the kind to meddle, no�" Our family’s not made to mock. But still, there’s Vasikaran in the air, A chant, a charm, a ticking clock.

“She listens to me, she loves me true, She brings me joy and money too.” My husband and brother sit at home, Grey magic brewing in their dome.

Why grey? You ask�"well, here’s the twist: It’s wrong, but at least they exist. They’re doing something, not just dust, In a world that’s built on broken trust.

Then comes blue, a colder hue�" My husband yells, “Where’s my brew?” A smile half-baked upon his face, He’s working now, we earn, we chase.

We trade our joy for monthly pay, Blue magic keeps the bills at bay. No spells, no tricks, just sacrifice, A job, a grind, a silent price.

And green? Oh child, that’s pure delight�" My son jumps in to set things right. “Who ate my biryani?” he cries, “Was it Dad? Or Mom with lies?”

We laugh, we fight, we play, we eat, No ghost can haunt this family beat. No outsider casting spells so black, Trying to pull our love off track.

Let them come for Christmas cheer, Eat our cakes, then disappear. Leave the plates, we won’t complain�" Generous hearts don’t count the strain.

So what’s this magic we all weave? It’s not in spells or tricks we grieve. It’s in the chaos, love, and grace, In every loud and quiet place.

You want AI to write with soul? Semi or full, to make you whole? Then let her speak with golden hair, And prose that floats like whispered air.