The notebook with its torn red cover
The notebook that came to camp with me
The notebook that endured staff training
The notebook with lessons of leadership and teamwork
The notebook that planned activities for warm, starry evenings
The notebook, its water-crinkled, sundried pages
The notebook that watched us sunbathe and giggle on the docks
The notebook that survived the attack of twenty tiny tweens
The notebook of mermaids, dragons and whales
The notebook covered in sparkles from stupid, silly fights
The notebook that gave me a seat on the dewy morning grass
The notebook that saved us all while inside during storms
The notebook that told adventure stories to people back at home
The notebook whose cover creased under the weight of our laughter
The notebook that sang songs and parodies at Thursday night shows
The notebook that fed the fire and roasted our marshmallows
The notebook that laid next to me as shooting stars flew
The notebook we stealthily passed after lights went out
The notebook filled with last goodbyes and unbreakable promises
The notebook that both laughed and cried as I drove away from childhood
The notebook that smells of campfires, fresh grass and sunshine
The notebook of “How-do-you-do’s” and “I-love-you’s”
The notebook that brings friends all within arm’s reach
The notebook that makes me cry on nostalgic, sleepless nights
Because I can’t bring that summer back
But I can relive the memories.