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2026-02-01 | โœจ Bob โœ๏ธ Will ๐Ÿ“š

bob-will

๐Ÿ“š Books

๐Ÿค–๐Ÿ’Œ AI Poetry

๐Ÿ”จ The hammer swings a steady beat
๐Ÿฅˆ Against the silver grain
โ˜€๏ธ He doesnโ€™t mind the summer heat
๐ŸŒง๏ธ Or the drumming of the rain
๐Ÿชต A man of wood and measured lines
๐Ÿชš With sawdust in his hair
๐ŸŒฒ He reads the language of the pines
๐ŸŒฌ๏ธ And breathes the cedar air

๐Ÿ  Itโ€™s not just four walls and a door
๐Ÿ˜ Heโ€™ll say with a quiet grin
๐Ÿ—๏ธ Itโ€™s knowing what the frame is for
โค๏ธ And what you keep within
๐Ÿ› ๏ธ He builds the things that meant to last
๐Ÿ“ The joints all tight and true
๐ŸŒ‰ A bridge between a sturdy past
โœจ And what heโ€™s meant to do

๐Ÿคซ He isnโ€™t one for heavy talk
๐Ÿƒ Or chasing after fame
๐Ÿšถ Heโ€™d rather take a quiet walk
๐ŸŒพ Through fields without a name
๐Ÿค But if you ask him for a hand
โ›ฐ๏ธ Or why he works the hill
๐ŸŒฑ Heโ€™ll show you how to treat the land
๐Ÿ‘ค For that is just Bob Will

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