……….Ding-dong is anyone home, in this house with exquisite gold knobs and such, who took the time to shotgun pepper this beautiful oak door with pearls, a platinum swing with pink cushions, statues of little girls running across meadows, filled with petals; there were puddles, and statues of boys in huddles, with the fronts of their shoes compiled in a circle; hedges spelled out wonderful lands, yes it was cut, not written by hands, a glass fountain, oh yes it was grand, a beautiful garden engulfed the whole land, it had the presence of a musical, everything was beautiful, even the trees had faces with cheeks and smiles carved into them. I was sure one spoke, but it was just the child in me filling up with hope.