The top of the stairs

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