It’s Poetry Friday, and I’ve been thinking about stairs. Why? Because I seem to keep stopping at the bottom of them of late. My recent treks have seen me pondering (and climbing) these stairs
on Rottnest Island, a place less known for its stairs than for its gorgeous beaches and, of course, quokkas. But the stairs form part of its military history and thus I climbed them as part of a tour.
Closer to home, I often climb these stairs
when I leave my beach – and often pause to snap them, even though I know it isn’t the first time, and won’t be the last. They are my favourite stairs because of their location, but I must confess to preferring going down than going up.
I also, recently, came across these stairs on my morning walk closer near the Swan River in Perth. From the bottom I called them rainbow stairs, but wondered whether someone had just spilled paint down them.
From the top, however, I could see some deliberateness, including the yellow heart at the bottom.
Lastly, at my dayjob I work on the fourth floor, and must confess that I take the lift far too often, but this week have challenged myself to climb the stairs at least once per day. It’s hard work, but I’m hoping it will get easier. Maybe when I love the stairs more there will be a photo, but for now, you’ll just have to take my word.
So, with all these stairs featuring in my thoughts, it seemed logical to attempt a poem about them. Here it is.
Beckoning me up
Calling me down
Depending on mood
I do like stairs
When I’m halfway up
I wish I’d stayed down
Or just taken the lift.
(Poem copyright Sally Murphy, 2020)