The torch is lit, a cloud of smoke,
Athletes giggle, as they take their stance,
Running in circles, all with a joke,
"Is it a race?" they muse in a trance.
Stumbling on hurdles made of soft fries,
Judges are munching, snacks piled high in advance.
One sprinter's slow, with a languid grace,
Her eyes are droopy, a grin on her face.
"Why rush?" she quips, "Let's savor this pace!"
The crowd is laughing, no one takes offense,
As they cheer for the athletes, high in their bliss,
Every time a medal drops, it’s a game of chance.
In swimming, they float, taking in the scene,
“Is it a wave, or a pizza I see?”
Their strokes like jelly, unyielding and keen,
While judges debate, “What’s the best degree?”
The podium’s swaying, it's hard to keep track,
“What was my score?” is the hot topic spree.
Then comes the weightlifting, a sight to behold,
“Lift it or leave it?” one says with a grin.
But the barbells wobble, and minds turn to gold,
As snacks gain more weight than the weights that they pin.
“I swear I can lift it, just one more try!”
As laughter erupts, those muscles grow thin.
The marathon’s on, but no one’s so sure,
“Is it still running, or are we just free?”
They stop for tacos, a venture demure,
As the sun sets low, and they all agree,
"It’s a spirit of games where we float on a dream,
In the THC Olympics, all winners you see!”
Gold medals shine with a greenish hue,
As everyone leaves on a cloud of delight.
The sports may be quirky, but friendships are true,
In this hazy abyss where the fun feels so right.
So here’s to the athletes, their laughter and cheer,
In the Olympics of THC, we all are a sight!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
