Beneath the boughs where shadows play,
A secret waits where leaves decay.
Not far from cheer and clinking glass,
It lies near where the walkers pass.
A minty box, not full of sweets,
Hides in a bed where rock and leaf meet.
Nestled close to a tree’s old scar,
Not far at all—just near the bar.
So bend on down, inspect with care,
The forest whispers, "It’s right there!"
Among the stones, beneath the green,
A tiny box, tucked and unseen.
Sign your name, then hide it tight,
So others too may find delight.
Adventure’s near, not far or wide—
Just look where nature loves to hide.