Wednesday, 23 October 2013

my senses poem

Mist as it drifts slowly and softly around me

The heavenly aroma of delicious milo

Grunts and shouts as I tug the rough rope in 
the tug o war

The rugged freezing rope as I slip into darkness
on the Burma trail

The fresh clean water as I dive into the lake

I am really looking forward to next  years camp


No comments:

Post a Comment