Camping without Nature
A silly little poem on glamping
By G. A. BoteroPublished 21 days ago • 1 min read
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Oh camping, its such a task
I sit in a leather chair
in this large tin can.
--
I wake up early
for my eggs and ham
cooked by Juliette
my camping hand.
--
I smell the flowers
freshly picked by Jose
and delivered to me
like a giant bouquet.
--
I go to bed late
so I can see all the stars
though these bugs I do hate
blocking my skylight view of mars.
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Short silly poem. Thanks for reading.
About the Creator
G. A. Botero
I have a million bad ideas, until a good one surfaces. Poetry, short stories, essays.
Comments (1)
Bugs are why I would never go camping hehehe. Loved your poem!