Hannah Y.
Age 15

FOB
The fading memory of rest
With sore legs, bruises and sanity being scattered to the wind
The words: flat on bunk, is but a phrase uttered, yet never reached
FOB Alas, FOB
In the time dusted past of junior camp ‘twas a few moments each day
Of pure unadulterated rest
Only interrupted by the whispers of campers, rustle of papers, and crunches of candy
FOB
The fading memory of rest
Teen Camp rushed into our lives, in its full fiery blaze
Burning itself into our lives
We are older, yet maturity is to be questioned
Each day of teen camp is chaos contained, threatening to burst
Packed and hectic, coated in surprise and mystery
A collection of injuries awaits us
A few hours of sleep beckoning us
But the tantalizing F.O.B is no longer
A cobwebbed remembrance
Oh, FOB!
Dearest FOB!
Alas! Alas!
FOB
The fading memory of rest
Once I was a foolish child of red cheeks and fancies
A buffoon without appreciation
Wrapped up in excitement
Drunk off the energy of camp
I detested FOB, cursed its existence
Dear FOB, gentle being
FOB cared for my welfare
Gifted my little frame with rest
Fight it I did
But I learned to yearn for its embrace
Appreciate its gentle ways
Love the rustle of notes passed and stifled giggles
FOB
Oh, FOB!
Why has teen camp forsaken you?
Thrown you to the wolves
Shunned your sweet approach
Teen camp weaned us off rest
Taught us the way of the zombie
But still in the depths of our soul
The ravines of our thoughts
We honor your existence
Miss your silly acronym
FOB!
Alas, FOB!
Come back to us!
Come back
FOB
The fading memory of rest
Zzzzzzzzzzzz……..