If Stairs Could Speak

A poem about the footprints we leave behind

If a staircase could speak, Our tales it would share. Of the steps we have taken, That lead us nowhere.

They’d talk of the time, We fell into their clutch. Asleep on their corners — — we drank a little too much.

“There’s a wizard beneath us,” “Fast asleep in his bed,” “And heaven we lead to,” “It’s the climb of the dead.”

And if they’ve been listening, A tough time they’ll have had. We’ve walked all along them, Stomped — when we’re mad.

But it’s inside their carpet, Our footprints tread deep. The traces of our lifetime, Now for the universe to keep.