The Staircase

Just a staircase. 
That is all that is left where the house once stood.
Rubble strewn across the acres hints at neighboring homes.
Trees have vanished; there is nothing left.
Except a white, curving staircase,
Connecting marble slab with sky.

The rest was stolen by the wind.

Just a staircase.
It stands alone on the hill...
Except for the outline of walls,
A humble two-by-four structure of hope.
Debris is piled neatly to be taken away.
But nothing is the same...
Except the white, curving staircase,
Connecting before with after.

The rest was stolen by the wind.

(From Chattanooga Times Free Press, by Dan Henry)