We have a special, private place,
Our very own small secret space.
Here in the green and shady wood,
We’ve made a house the best we could.
Old tree stumps pose as chairs so fine;
Our walls are hung with wild grapevine.
The roof—oak branches overhead;
And pine needles form our comfy bed.
Jam sandwiches—the best by far—
And water brought in old fruit jars
We spread out on a big flat rock
And make up grown-up dinner talk,
While overhead a wild bird sings
Above our palace fit for kings.