Camp Fire They were lonely men, And women of course. They strode laughing, through the forest alone. It was twilit dark, dew glistening On the moonlit bark. The light didnt make the rest, A little more stark, But only stood ready, listening... For the footsteps making their mark. For these men, And women of course, Were journeying, a holiday. Or...a holi-night, As they travelled where there was no soul in sight. The reached the edge of the forest, And if, an observer, was to follow their eyes, You'd see at their feet, ashes. Because this was Camp, and these werent ordinary men, Not ordinary women, They numbered ten, Seeking haven in their souls, Praying for the fallen, In this camp, the romantics weren't downtrodden. For hidden in this clearing, Was mystery, neon and a silence searing. The poet came out, As the fire blazed on the ground, And the people around sat singing. Tunes of love, Or hurt. Of the moments the sun wasn't bright, But was merely excess light. When noises grew to annoy, They sang... Of when the voices became noises. When their woes killing joy, Were just memories, not unlike that of a boy. They were little again, But weren't weak of heart. For this wasn't just camp, And this not just a campfire. This was The Camp, With people who could rule the world, Mould the very fabric of time and spaces. Not with their swords or guns or political words, But with their silence and sadness, And memories of the times they were called turds. These men, And women of course, Were the legendary people, who in stories we've heard, None more free, none any more like the bird. Don't doubt my words, don't think me to a liar, I know your questions, my dear doubtful sigh-er, This isn't just Camp, and that wasn't just a campfire, This is a recluse for those with hearts that burn, And what better name, so easily seen on the flyer, What better name, Than "Camp Fire." #scenariochallenge