Circles

The stairs in the hall have no meaning at all, not going up, down, or side to side. The steps just sit on the wall, and watches as the family crumbles around it, in good time. Its wood holds no ears or eyes, but it hears and sees the lies that stumble and fall around in the household. It beholds at the sights from dawn to daylight and with no mouth passes rumors down the road. With no hands and arms it comforts, and shelters the innocent, as the others rage circles around them. It walks with no legs, and with no rage calms them, and brings them back together as one. When everyone has died, said their final goodbye, and left the house alone and empty. It will still be there, with no eyes, and no ears, waiting for the years when there are people once again in the house, and it will be ready.