My Hands Are Always Dirty
by Eli Morin
My hands are always dirty!
I’ve washed and washed and scrubbed and scrubbed but my hands are still dirty!
My fingernails are black from the dirt in the cracks, I put soap on my hands, and smack!
And yet my fingernails are still black.
Let’s not get started on my face, coated in sand and dirt, the smell of smoke from campfire.
I know I need to shower, but darn it! I’m so tired!
My feet constantly smell I feel so bad for my sockies,
If they could scream they would yell “HELP!” through Becky’s broken walkie talkie.
But of course no one can hear so in the hamper they go,
With all the sweaty, stinky, disgusting dirty clothes.
Soon I’m on fishing with power bait and glitter.
You telling me a man can’t look pretty with sparkly spirit fingers?!
Soon it’s time for dinner and I must wash my dirty stinky hands, as I expand my fingers scrubbing every nick and cranny,
I find myself still with dirty hands sitting now on my fanny.
Maybe it’s useless, maybe it’s time to call it quits.
Maybe I should stop fighting the dirt and accept it for what it is.
For everyone has a little dirt in their hands that may never go away.
We ALL have that something that eats at us every day.
But here at camp it is more than singing songs and playing fun games.
We are a FAMILY at camp and I doubt that will ever change.