The haughty mansion carelessly wore rusted metal
shingles; gray cobwebs covered broken Palladian
windows, splintered mahogany sills rotted below; tall
trees around the house dying, grass dead, an empty
cracked swimming pool sitting forlornly in the midst
of broken California stones like a huge mouth agape
in disappointment. The manor was stark, unyielding
to laughter, a corroded shattered temple of excess:
Arrogant footsteps, the odor of power, and drunken
laughter long gone: shattered Tiffany lamps strewn on
tattered Oriental carpets in huge joyless rooms,
ragged 16th Century antique furniture sitting amidst
layers of dust, spider webs, and lost hopes, waiting,
waiting for the scion of lost wealth to become rich
again and reclaim his decaying property, but he has
gone forever, resting uncomfortably now in a
crumbling cement tomb.