Stairs

One day, the roof of my house had to be removed. The shining sun prompted this poem.

I used to climb in darkness,
Engulfing myself in black.
Then, one day, I lost my roof --
I found I loved its lack.

Never before had I seen
Standing at the foot of my stairs,
How lustrous my staircase was:
I lobbed the steps in pairs.

If light could be bucketed,
I'd fill some up to store.
Then, on gloomy rainy days,
I'd spill it over the floor.