Oh sacred hour, a wink and a nudge,
When hands grab the herb, and the brains start to fudge.
The sun's at its peak, with the clouds up ahead,
We gather in circles, with snacks to be spread.
With lighters ablaze like a beacon of light,
We spark up our spliffs in a grand ritual rite.
The bongs lined in rows, like soldiers on guard,
All set for the moment that feels oh so hard.
As the clock strikes the hour, the cheers fill the air,
To honor the plant with the sweet, fragrant flair.
“Cheers to the goddess!” we tipsily chant,
Forgetting our troubles, we sway like a plant.
With munchies in hand, we dive in the feast,
Chips, guac, and pizza, the cravings released.
The couch is a throne where we reign supreme,
Lost in the haze of our daydreams and schemes.
So here's to the ritual, the laughter, the cheer,
To every strange thought and each hearty jeer.
At 4:20, let spirits lift high, oh so free,
Join hands with the herb, for all's well, can't you see?
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
