Camping Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Camping



Wind mercilessly blowing smoke in my face, as I sit by the campfire.
Burning my eyes, and taking my breath away with a creosol smell.
Looking out into the night time forest, I can see nothing but dark between the trees.
Up above - through the tree branches, the moon smilingly hides for a while.
His perfectly round face a reminder of an oreo cookie - the white stuff inside.
Stars twinkled and giggled and slid across the skies.
Contentedly peaceful, I sighed deep inside and continued to think by the fireside.

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