At four-twenty, the clock chimes clear,
With munchies and friends gathered near.
A bowl full of greens,
And silly routines,
As we giggle and pass round the beer.
One friend lights it, a puff then a cough,
While another’s just scarfing down slaw.
A path to the snack,
Then they fade and go slack,
As we ponder the meaning of "law."
In this haze, we find joy and delight,
In each giggle that chases the night.
Though the world may seem odd,
With a blessing from “God,”
We're stoned—and everything feels right!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
