The Top of the Stairs
I’m sat at the top of the stairs
Knees tucked in tight
Right under my chin
I’m barely breathing
I tilt my head slightly
Desperately trying to catch a glimpse
Just a sliver
Of the world the adults below inhabit
Their laughter rising up and down
I wonder what’s so funny?
Every now and then I catch a whiff of smoke
The smell of alcohol lingering on the stairwell
I can just hear the distant beat
As the records turn on the record player
My eyes like saucers
The party in full swing
I toss back my head
And imagine what it must be like
The laughter
The wine, the dancing
Then, there it is
The hand on my shoulder
The smell of smokey breath and whiskey
“Come on young lady - back to bed”
Busted once again
I smile
I flop my head on my pillow
Maybe when I’m 9 they’ll let me join the party?
Joanne C Hicks Pembrokeshire Poet copyright ©️
14th June 2026
