Start with the foundation, spruce planks in place, Then build up the tree, with skill and grace. Shape the roots, with oak blocks and steps, The narrator’s voice, in rhymes, adept.
A balcony, a swing, and a cabin so high, The story unfolds, reaching for the sky. Branches and leaves, a canopy so green, In every pulsing line, the truth is seen.
A pond, with gray soil and seaweed so fine, The narrator’s tale, in rhymes, does shine. The bedroom’s narrow, but cozy and neat, In every word spoken, the story’s complete.
Glowing berries, and flowers all around, The narrator’s voice, in rhymes, does astound. The treehouse is finished, a masterpiece so rare, In every playful rhyme, the truth takes to the air.