The House With the Golden Windows

Morning... the child awakes, steps lightly 'cross the threshold of his front yard. Windows of the mansion o'er the glen ablaze with sparkling brilliance draw his gaze. Suited for all-comers, with sturdy leggings for his Big Adventure, he takes on the day, as brave as good King Arthur on a mission for the Grail. Striding forth, his heart is beating like a drum as he tarries by the river to bathe his feet in icy water, wolfing down the victuals made ready by his mum. Trudging up the hillside, harder than the journey down, wearying now his steps are measured. He longs to claim his dream though his eyes now see dull sockets where the shining should have been. Depressed, he sits exhausted to weigh the reason why. As he turns, hungry for home, his heart is leaping, for basking in the radiance of the slowly dying sunset is his own lowly residence, its windows glittering like burnished gold!