I gaze up at my stakeout house. Birds creep in and do some drops of wet sticky droppings. I climb up my steady timber ladder, which has my plants on my pale white balcony. With binoculars of pure gold, I spy my old gross room. In the morning I say good bye to my stakeout place and move to 9 Crawford St, I see my new house owners and say to myself “I hope they look after my tree house”. Then it brings back a colossal amount of memories.
by Jayden A Room 4