Upon a cloud of smoke we sit,
With snacks galore, our minds may split.
A circle formed of giggles and haze,
Our poetry night transforms into a maze.
In the depths of our cannabis dreams,
Our verses flow like chocolate streams.
“I am a tree, tall and free!” one yells,
While another scribbles stories of magical swells.
“Roses are red, violets are blue,”
One friend proclaims, “And I love fondue!”
The rhymes twist and turn like raggedy bread,
As laughter erupts, and sanity’s shed.
A walrus in pants, a cat on a throne,
Our wordsmithing skills have surely outgrown.
With metaphors muddled and similes skewed,
Each line gets funnier; we’re lost in the goof.
The clock ticks on, as we’re lost in our rhymes,
Tangled up in thoughts, skipping time like chimes.
“Ode to the munchies!” someone then sings,
As we raise our glasses to friendship and things.
So here’s to the nights when imagination flies,
With friends by your side, under star-laden skies.
For poetry’s best when we dabble and sway,
In a haze of good vibes, we’ll drift through the day.
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
