Subic Camping, Where Boyhood Bloomed
The canvas tents, a khaki hue,
Beneath a sky of endless blue.
Subic's air, a tender kiss,
A memory of youthful bliss.
The crackling fire, a golden heart,
Where stories spun and fears would part.
Marshmallows toasted, sticky sweet,
Barefoot dances on the zestful feet.
The scent of pine, a woodsy grace,
A whispered prayer in that wild space.
Learning knots, a steady hand,
Exploring trails across the land.
The bugle's call, a morning sound,
As sleepy eyes would look around.
The flag held high, a proud display,
Another adventurous, bright new day.
The mess kit clanging, tin on tin,
The hurried rush to tuck within.
The laughter echoing through the trees,
Carried softly on the breeze.
The ghost stories in shadowed light,
That kept us huddled through the night.
The twinkling stars, a vast unknown,
A sense of wonder newly sown.
The camaraderie strong and true,
A brotherhood that saw us through.
The shared adventures big and small,
A bond that time cannot recall.
Now years have passed, the camp is gone,
But in my heart, the memories run.
The scent of smoke, the wild wind's roar,
Boy Scout camping, evermore.
A flicker of the campfire's gleam,
A half-forgotten youthful dream.
Of Subic's fields and starry skies,
Where boyhood's spirit never dies.
©bfa040925
Copyright ©
Bernard F. Asuncion
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