The Golden House
There is a house, all white and golden,
by Angela Henderson
With huge high gates, that rarely open.
You enter the garden, the grass a clear green,
With flower beds scattered, maintained and clean.
The front door opens, inside I peer,
I see a staircase, a crystal chandelier.
The stairs are steep, I cannot climb,
Must leave to go, it's not my time.
One day I'll return and enter within,
The master will then welcome me in.