Camping: a poem

CAMPING

                                     ~By Srimoyee Dutta 

The road was dusty

Brown and broken

The path was curvy

That we had taken

The trees were tall

That lined the road

Their leaves would fall

When the cool wind blows

The long shadows

Of the evening

Dissolved into the

Darkness gathering

The moon was round

Full and bright

And on the ground

Fell its silvery light

The twinkling stars

In the sky above

We lay down to observe

With the ones we love.