Poetry Corner- Stopping by the Mansion on a Cold and Lonely Evening

(Note: This is a twist on Robert Frost's "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening")Who's house is this? I suppose I know.    I hear he's in the Bahama's, though. He will not know I'm standing here. Watching his warm empty house as I freeze in the snow. My little child must think it queer.To stop without any shelter near.Her cold pink digits and make poke from her clothes and I shed a tear. She gives my frozen hands a shakeTo ask if there is some mistakeOr is there warmth for us to sleep?I steel my resolve and her hand do take. The mansion's lovely, warm, and deep. But I have frozen feet to keepAnd miles to go before I sleepAnd miles to go before I sleep.