Camp

• Jonah La Galia, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2019

Camp

The bright orange sands
Blowing in the sharp, dust winds
As we scout our land

The dorms exciting
So were the journeys and walks
Though were frightening

This was our new home
For the next few days to stay
And this we would roam

We roamed through the bush
Through deep waters of the lake
And no one would push.

By _____ __ _____