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!
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