At a quarter past four, we convene,
With our goodies all flavorful and green.
We giggle and munch,
As we share quite a bunch,
And forget what we had in between.
There's a ritual dance with some flair,
A cloud of sweet smoke in the air.
Our socks mismatch,
The snacks start to hatch,
As we laugh at our wild, noble care.
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
