Where roots twist and nature thrives,
Behind thick ivy, my secret hides.
A veil of green shields me from view,
But sharp eyes will see the clue.
A sentinel stands, a stump of three,
Facing eastward, it watches me.
The ivy’s tendrils reach and creep,
Guarding the treasure it longs to keep.
Look for a place where shadows cling,
Beneath the earth where roots may spring.
Pull back the leaves, part nature’s door,
And find the prize that you’ve been searching for