oh how i miss my cabin
my cabin where different girls would sleep and rest
and do makeup and share our clothes
oh how i miss sitting next to anthony
telling jokes and serving each other food
and glancing at the french boy,
turning and giggling
my second home under the redwood trees
is where a foreign boy
found interest in me
i'd blush and ask him about the eiffel tower
and then he'd wonder about my freckles
and i told him
they'd show when my lover back at home
(a very kind man)
would call me pretty
under those very trees
i fired arrows
they'd hit the target in reasonable places
and elliot would mimic and tease me
a funny counselor was he
crackles of campfire
would send the girls around me to sleep
we could barely sing out anymore campfire songs
quail cabin was gone
next summer i'll see them again
but in different faces of different people
sure i might see some of them
which i hope
but until then
i sit in my first home under the redwood trees
waiting for camp campbell
– a girl who likes going away
YOU ARE READING
blossoms i touch
Poetrywords that are said in the dark and in the light as well but be careful of these letters spoken they're very vulnerable thoughts and words alike
