The Word was Wood.

Night of games with friends, we felt alive,
We pulled out Pictionary, ready and in stride.
The clock was ticking, the pressure was high,
Drawing and guessing, reaching for the sky.
It was our turn, victory was so near,
The word was "wood," the answer was clear.
My big-nosed friend drew a tree with flair,
And time was running out, we couldn’t find the nail there.
With frantic hands, he sketched the scene,
An oak with branches, leaves so green.
I looked at the drawing, with a confused face,
The sand was running out, defeat we’d soon embrace.
It was our turn, victory was so near,
The word was "wood," the answer was clear.
My big-nosed friend drew a tree with flair,
And time was running out, we couldn’t find the nail there.
Desperation grew, seconds flew by,
His eyes were widening, almost a cry.
“Come on, don’t you see? It’s so clear, my friend!
It’s wood, it’s wood, I drew it to the end!”
It was our turn, victory was so near,
The word was "wood," the answer was clear.
My big-nosed friend drew a tree with flair,
And time was running out, we couldn’t find the nail there.
When the last grain of sand fell, the clock stopped,
He shouted in frustration, his anger popped.
“Wood, Shithead!, wood! I drew a tree!”
We laughed till we cried, oh, what fun it would be!
the word was wood!
the word was wooood! dude!
It was our turn, but we had so much fun,
In Pictionary, we’re winners, no need for a run.