The Big House by Sarah O'Mahony ©2014
Stolen and Lost
The big house stands there
Dark, mysterious, at cost.
I arrive at the entrance gates
They're solid yet carved intricately
Great greyish blue pillars of stone
A key pad to admit one.
The drive way meanders like a river in its last breath
Curves widely and softly round
'Pastures of green';
Framed wooden rail fencing
Neatly raised yet doesn't take from the scene.
On I go into this open ancient book of lore
Its trees tell estate's age
Large mature yet foreign cedars stand solemnly above
As if leading the visitor to the master
I park in front of this historic mansion
Its columns of construction stately
Up the steps I go to a huge oaken front door
Its dusty green like from faraway lands of North Africa, Tunis;
I stand there three steps up and press the ashen bronze bell
It feels like miniature meeting a monster
Tolkien, C.S. Lewis,
'The lion, the witch and the wardrobe',
Narnia all come to mind in a flash,
Oh my God I think, what childlike wonder this is,
I'm in a story book!
The door opens,
She smiles, a girl from the East,
Dark shiny hair tied back in a ponytail,
A hesitant smile reveals all,
"Come in, I'll show you around."