Each time I spark, my thoughts begin to drift,
I swear I had a point, but now it’s gone,
The couch, my throne, where all my plans are “shift.”
With every puff, I float—oh what a gift,
But snacks call louder than the postman’s yawn,
Each time I spark, my thoughts begin to drift.
I sought enlightenment, or at least a lift,
Yet hours pass as I just sit and brawn,
The couch, my throne, where all my plans are “shift.”
Work deadlines approach, my mind is making sifts,
I type three words, then accidentally prawn,
Each time I spark, my thoughts begin to drift.
My cat is judging me, oh what a rift,
Trying to reason, but I feel like a pawn,
The couch, my throne, where all my plans are “shift.”
Yet still I light up, despite every gift,
Life’s much more fun when I’m blissfully drawn,
Each time I spark, my thoughts begin to drift,
The couch, my throne, where all my plans are “shift.”
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
