The Work That Keeps Them Whole

There is nothing elegant in them.
The wood is rough hewn and worn, utilitarian
and plain.
The walls and banister have been repaired,
not always well.
They squeak and groan with every step.
And yet,

they still lead you upward,
out,
beyond.
Not because of their age or failings,
but because generation
after generation,
someone cared enough to repair them,

understood that rising is full of broken treads
and rails,
and the work that keeps them whole

About this poem. 

More about relationships than stairs. But it could be about stairs too.

Tom