The Squeaky Staircase

The staircase squeaked on the first and second steps.

The real estate agent looks back at me.

 He keeps walking up the stairs,

 almost on tiptoe, he looked a bit uncomfortable.

He made me giggle as I step on the first step, it squeaked!

A few steps more and all was quiet, just a normal staircase.

The real estate agent reached the top; I am sure he had a look of relief on his face,

after all, he will be receiving a commission, if he sold the house.

I follow him to the top of the stairs and only a few more squeaky, cracking boards heard.

I was imagining the beautiful carpet I could lay on these stairs,

or even a polish would bring up each step with a shine, looking brand new.

Looking down from the top, I noticed the stair hand rail, not carved, plain, but sturdy.

 These stairs had a history.

Parents, children, teenagers, cats and dogs all running up and down these stairs.

Also little chips on the hand rail as if furniture had been moved up and down.

I sit on the stairs, pondering.

On the opposite wall there were little scribbles, a perfect drawing to some.

The house was sold, a commission earned.