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Marshmallow Fingers

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We went camping last weekend! There’s nothing like the fresh mountain air, smell of campfire and little critters crawling around your ankles to make you feel alive. 





Raymond, the boys and I hiked up to the top of Pilot Mountain! Breathtaking.





Of course, I had to write a poem. This poem is from the point of view of…well, read it and guess :) 

Loud giggles erupt                                   
Through heavy summer heat
As the brown haired boy
Only about four or so
Holds the stuffed oozing graham cracker                                   
With sticky marshmallow
Fingers

He sparkles with delight
As he licks the dripping chocolate
And sighs as he peers into the flames
Of the well tended fire

His brother, around ten or so
Also munches on the gooey sweetness
Occasionally a teasing word
Escapes from his mouth
Causing his brother to shriek
And their parents to cringe.

I peered through the Oaks to glimpse
The family who could not see me.  

Finally the sky blackened
And the fire dimmed
And the boys slept
with the occasional dreamy sigh.

It was my turn to come alive
I foraged around,
Leaving my prints
But soon realized it was no use.

I simply crept
Through the Oaks
To the next sleeping family
And soon became engulfed
With half eaten hot dogs
And spilled sticky marshmallows
                                    

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