An Ode To Stairs

Wooden slats upon which we’d step
From kitchen to cars we routinely met.
Welcome matt there to scuff and wipe
Our dirty shoes with mirth and might.
I never thought I’d miss you much
But then again who’d think of such?
You’ve been gone for days on end
Each time I depart and return again
I consider my route from car to door
Which way to go should it start to pour.
When you return after the project’s through
I won’t take for granted the wooden splendor of you.