Camping without nature

A short silly poem on glamping.

Photo by G.A.Botero

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.

— -

Short silly poem. Thanks for reading.

---

Originally published on Medium on 2024-04-29.