William

Monday 3 September 2012

Camp senses poem


Thornton Beach Camp
The rage of the pounding surf against the fragile sand.
The acidic spray of the salty sea.       
The whistling of the treacherous wind against the gentle tent.
The hot, tingling sensation as my delicate back gets a scarlet dusting from the                               sun.
The awful, bitter taste of burnt custard on my sensitive taste buds.
I think Thornton Beach Camp was the coolest camp ever!

Quinn

No comments:

Post a Comment