It starts off slow.
The trip up drones on, all road lines mesmerize the mind as they pass.
It picks up speed like a car coasting downhill.
The present becomes the past and moments become memories.
Meals meld into one, not three.
Soon as you know it, night six is upon you
And we gather around the campfire.
Promises are made and wood is burned to seal them.
The floating ambers end the last night.
We all leave with memories, some precious, few spiteful,
But we can all say it was an amazing week,
Despite the downhill ride.
7/20/02
