There is a place that's dear to me
And no one understands
Why I want to return each and every year.
It's not that there's any particular draw
In fact, I can't come up with anything wonderful
Which anyone else would enjoy
But somehow, amidst the
Smoky air from the garbage fires,
The masses of deerflies buzzing in your ears
And the mosquitoes everywhere you go...
The atmosphere of freedom,
Of companionship,
Of camaraderie and even craziness
Is worth every minute.
And sure, you get drenched by the water balloons,
But the game is worth the wet,
And sure, you get splattered with tie-dye
And soaked from falling out of cardboard boats,
And you swallow muddy, slimy pond water,
And reek of smoke,
While eating grilled cheese sandwiches every day,
You're cut off from the real world,
You miss your brother's baseball games,
You cower in your bunks while the lightning storms rage
And the tornado sirens blare,
And yet you feel safe,
And happy,
And at home.
More than you ever did
When you really were at home.
**Back to Beth's Poetry Page**
Background courtesy of Jay Lichtman at Jay's ORIGINAL Backgrounds!!!