The Treehouse on Oremeji Hill

A bright treehouse atop Oremeji Hill, holding children’s secrets and sparkling hopes.

Up on Oremeji Hill so high,
Where the bold hawks glide across the sky,
A mighty tree with a golden crown
Holds a house that never falls down.

Its leaves glow bright like new Gele,
Shining softly through the harmattan day.
The branches hum a quiet tune,
Sweet as folktales told under the moon.

Children climb when the sun is low,
Feet tapping the ladder nice and slow.
They whisper dreams the wind can keep,
Secrets only tall trees can keep.

Inside the house, the floorboards sing,
Every creak is a friendly thing.
The windows blink like happy eyes
Watching lizards race and butterflies rise.

Some say the tree was planted long ago
By a wise old woman who walked too slow.
She rested once and tapped her stick,
And up it grew, sturdy and quick.

Others swear it came from a seed
Dropped by a bird on some quiet deed.
But nobody knows, and that’s alright,
For mysteries grow the best delight.

If you climb it, hold your heart steady.
Big dreams like to visit when you’re ready.
Whisper your hope. The house will hear.
It keeps small wishes safe from fear.

And when you climb back down again,
You’ll feel a spark, a gentle friend.
For Oremeji’s tree knows this truth well:
Children carry magic no one can quell.