Here is my poem for last week’s poetry prompt, Camping:
Nightfall at Camp
Evening comes to our lakeside
and flickers with flashlights and fires.
Softer voices heighten laughter,
as campers speak in stories and desires.
When we packed our things for camping,
I chose a comfy chair to take
and now I’m grateful for it
as I sit and gaze upon the lake.
Away from our dirt and gravel,
the boaters find their spot;
spaced out upon the bay,
now a bobbing parking lot.
Tiny lighted islands
mored beyond the shore,
floating hulls of luxury,
defying the murky floor.
Not for need are they trapped out there,
we’re all here to make some fun;
whatever survival we all fight for,
us campers have surely won.