Dopple Me

Thursday, 6 September 2012

Camp Senses Poem

Gigantic, ferocious waves crashing against the hot golden sand. The smell of sizzling, burning sausages. Shouts from Matua Del in the morning to get up for fitness. The soft sand slipping through my hands like sparkling, clear water. The fresh, salty air clogging up my throat. The Beach is awesome! Max

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