Young Kind

Through the woods,

Past the wheat fields,

Over the stream,

Behind your grandfather's barn,

Lays a kingdom ruled by kids,

Amazing tree houses, bridges and ziplines connecting,

One in the center,

Rising up farther and higher,

Made of wood but with candy decorations,

Laughs can be heard,

And some grownup cries as kids retaliate for times punished,

Raise a cup of apple juice,

Or eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,

Just be carefull,

Ramparts are armed with nerf guns,

Little brothers will pull hair,

Once thirteen,

The kingdom is no more.