The Golden House - Poem by Angela Henderson
There is a house, all white and golden,
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.
Comments about The Golden House by Angela Henderson
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You