As a child toasting marshmallows
Over a campfire
Was a treat
No matter where you stood
Thin cut willow branch
In hand
The glorious smoke of camp
Wood fire would
Find you
For a sweet treat
Burning eyes
Dry throat but
This morning I awoke
To that smell of
Wood smoke
But my campsite
As the sun rose was
My bedroom
My how things have changed
Nonbelievers abound
As we toast
The earth that has become
Our marshmallow
Bitter S’mores
Remember the smoke
Will definitely get
In your eyes
