Slowly entering an isolated realm
Of peace and forgetfulness,
My mind races with the week’s adventures.
Waking up to the aroma
Of what we youngsters call the “Phillipcakes”,
We satisfy our hunger while an echoing choir
Accompanies the Aunt Jemima theme song.
After our stomachs feel like balloons under pressure,
Me and my closest companion of the journey
Meander to the metal wonders of swings and merry-go-rounds.
Spinning for hours at a time,
All the colors seem to blend together
Forming dreams imaginable.
Feeling drunker than a man on New Year’s,
We collapse into a sea of green
And create majestic creatures in the blue hovering above.
The nearby water calls our names
As the fish jubilously cause ripples
In extravagant dancing.
We sit and talk of things as if we’re Queens of the Camp,
And of knights in shining armor
Coming to sweep us off of our feet,
Leaving our mouths speechless and gaping.
As day turns to dark, we make our way back to dependable shelter
As the campfire sparks imagination.
We sit and gaze into the crackling light
Holding our sides in laughter
As we hear well-known stories
We could tell word-for-word.
Another day approaches,
And our adventures are repeated.
Time comes sadly to an end and home is just a drive away, as
We sit back and add to our memories of Hiawassee,
Knowing more are yet to come.