Upon the couch, a duo finds their fate,
With cannabis in hand, they spark the flame,
The clock ticks on, but they just sit and wait,
For snacks to come, but, oh! It's not the same.
They laugh at clouds, debate the sky's deep hue,
While munching chips, they swear it’s "analysis,"
Each hour chimes, but they see not the cue,
Lost in their minds, a stoned paralysis.
The sun had crossed, the stars began to bloom,
"Was that a minute? Or perhaps a year?"
They ponder life, while stoned and lost in gloom,
“Wasn't dinner time? Oh dear, oh dear!”
As clocks are cursed and minutes slip away,
They grin and grin, and let the night decay.
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
