The dark navy blue fills the sky.
Luminous stars peek through – gleaming,
as the moon awakens to greet me.

The marshmallow toasts.
Smoldering woods – hints of fire roasted vanilla,
drape over the campfire like a cozy blanket.

The wooden stick leans against the fire.
Plucked from the forest – ideal for roasting,
brittle and slim, sits ready to crumble.

The s’mores burn over the fire.
Golden graham crackers – honeyed,
chocolate silk coats the marshmallow as
I take my last bite.

The crackling fire dims in the background.
“Barefoot blue jean night!” – sings freely …
until the sun rises.