Sitting under the branches of a tall, old tree,
The beauty of the surrounding nature in view,
High amidst the leaves, a treehouse I could see,
The sweet smell of fresh wood creating a blissful hue.

A row of steps tightly built, weaving up the trunk,
My hands run along it feeling the strength of the bark,
I see the rope which was used to make it come alive,
The swings that hung down creating a wave beneath the shadows of the hive.

The sturdy wooden floorboards creak with my every...