If there were witchcraft, I’d make two wishes,
a winding trail that beckons me to roam
and then I’d wish for a blazing campfire
to welcome me when I’m returning home.

But in this real world there is no witchcraft,
and golden wishes do not grow on trees.
Our fondest day dream must be the magic
to welcome back those golden memories.

Memories that linger, fondest and true,
bring back sweet visions, Blaisdell camp of you.