In a land where the mountains are lush and green,
The High-Lympic Games came, a sight to be seen.
With athletes all buzzing, smiles wide as the sky,
They toed the starting line, pot rocks piled high.
First up was the sprinter, a blur made of haze,
He dashed down the track in a calm, dazed maze.
With his shoes untied, he tripped on a cloud,
“Just catching some waves!” he yelled to the crowd.
Next came the swimmers, all floating in bliss,
They dove in the pool, in the thick of the mist.
Bubbles were rising, like hearts filled with cheer,
“Is this the Olympics, or a hot tub near?”
The weightlifter grinned, with a munchie-filled grin,
He lifted the bar, then dropped it with a spin.
“You said it was heavy?” he chuckled with glee,
“Guess I’ll just bench it—then order some tea!”
The archers were aiming, their bows made of dreams,
But the arrows just floated, as if caught in moonbeams.
“Did I hit the bullseye?” one dopey dude asked,
While his bow became a bass guitar—what a task!
The final event was a spiritual race,
To see who could chill the longest in place.
With eyes all a-glimmering, and snacks in their grip,
They meditated hard, on a sweet cosmic trip.
As the sun set upon this whimsical show,
Victory was declared—by the munchies, you know!
So raise up your joints and toast to the high,
The High-Lympic Games, where no one needs to try!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
