This! A rather well kept bush,
One fledgling tree of etiquette,
To wear a pruning without shame,
And rightly so, the beauty has firm names:
As fortitude and gloria,
As wisdom, long suffered restraint,
As prudence and nathaniel,
As tested and proved truly true.

We're in at last, the tiny world unfurled,
My machinations lie at its true root,
The buzz and clinks, the quieted chatter,
The story told in scarcely alphabets,
I'll donne the builders hat and climb in bricks,
I'll make an edifice to show the world.

Taking time to reorganise,
My room for room, undustiness,
For from my youth I heard: be wise!
Clean up your space, don't leave a mess!
I feel a stir and the challenge rise,
For creatures find in piles a nest,
Too beckoned by the order I surmise,
The learnings of my youth are dressed,
Upon my shoulders now -
I hope the fabric's full.

Pool mad,
And the water pitter-patters,
Echoes from the cannon ball with a spatter,
Diving frenzy between my cousins,
Diving before second cousins,
And some siblings are chilling behind,
Switch!
Ball mad,
And a lunge splish-splashes,
Sinking beneath a tapped ball with a passion,
Switch!
Rocket mad,
And we're chucking coloured missiles into the deep,
At each other, and we race to the bottom.