Poetic Bloomings Camp Day One

Up at the Bus                                                                                                    

Up at the bus, for a week-end stay

Are we there yet? We five would say

A retired school bus instead of a tent

In that old thing, many hours were spent

Five little girls full of fun and play

Dad would go fishing, it was his way

Mom would clean and cook throughout the day

We’d play pretend, that’s how it went

Up at the bus

Slept in bunk beds that would creak and sway

Ate at a fold out table or a metal tray

Kerosene heaters and lamps gave acrid scent

Stored water in milk cans, silver and dent

To a rustic outhouse, visit’s we’d pay

Often to the woods we’d stray, up at the bus.