S'more the Merrier?
Miny marshmallow minds, are minding the store.
Their heads are on fire, still they come back for S'more.
In the heat of it all, they can't find the door.
Till their milk chocolate membranes, ooze out on the floor.
They cough up graham crackers all over our shoes.
Their breath reeks of cigars and cheap homemade booze.
With heads still on fire, they can't follow the clues.
Just keep marching side by side, and two by twos.
S'more the merrier? Well, I know that's what they say.
But, how many more marshmallow minds are melting today.
Maybe we should put out the camp fire, be on our way.
Before all we can taste, are muck, sand, and clay.
Copyright © Randy Freie | Year Posted 2025
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