The first thing you notice is the sand
It's everywhere, and you hate it
But it's somehow oddly comforting.
You get your uniform, and you wonder
Why would you have to tuck in that shirt
You do it anyway.
You meet your counselor, she greets you
With open arms. It's nice,
You think.
You go to your audition, it goes well.
Your parents are gone already,
Go figure.
You take your first walk to main camp.
Or, the official name, Central Camp.
You are accompanied by a cabin mate
It's her first time at camp too.
You see a group of campers talking,
They have colored name tags, why?
You don't know.
Your friendship with your cabin mates
Is growing, They're fun, you think.
You'll have fun.
-
The last thing you notice is that you have to go.
You don't want to, but you have to.
So on your final night, you weep.
It's odd, you think, that you'll miss it,
Even the smallest details, like the sand.
And the million hours of rehearsal.
You'll miss music constantly in your ears.
The friends you made, and your counselor.
Your instructors too.
You'll miss the terrible food,
The devilish showers,
And the horrid 360 tuck.
You'll miss the experiences you had
The music that you made.
But, after all, such talent can't be contained
Forever.
So, goodbye blue lake.
