There was a time when I was young,
Joyful and memorable.
Every summer, first few weeks
Camping at the springs was a tradition.
The first and last day of the trip,
Being the busiest, we worked as a team
Setting up our campsite,
Tents and popup camper,
All had their chores.
But starting the fire with grandpa
Was what all the kids wanted to do.
Played rock, paper, scissors to see
Who's turn it was each time.
It was the one memorable time
We could play with fire.
Roasted marshmallows as the sun set behind the clouds
And listening to the elders tell their campfire stories.
Moments like these give me pause
With a tiny smile on my face and in my heart
For I can still hear their voices
Telling their stories and making us laugh.

© Anniemiles15