At the stair's summit, shadows dance,
A girl perched high, in a quiet trance.
Between wooden slats, she glimpses a fray,
A hushed exchange, where words betray.

Whispers crawl, a tempest's rise,
Crimson ember in her hazel eyes.
A silent witness to the strained refrain,
The heaviness of strife, an unseen chain.

Tears, unshed, cling to lashes long,
A melody of pain in the night's dark song.
In the silence, the house breathes deep,
Echoing secrets it can't help but keep.

The staircase cradles her in its ascent,
Each step is a journey, a hesitant vent.
Cold air lingers, a taste of unease,
She listens, patient, beneath the eaves.

Worn carpet fibers beneath her fingers,
She traces patterns, where memory lingers.
Through the keyhole, fractured light,
A kaleidoscope of a fractured fight.

A tableau painted with muted hues,
The air grows thick, like morning dew.
Thunderous murmurs, a tempest brewing,
In the dim-lit hall, she's left viewing.

Yet, amidst the chaos, resilience grows,
As night unfolds, its secrets expose.
Her presence a balm, a silent prayer,
A daughter poised in the heart's despair.

A sentinel of hope in the muted gloom,
Her silhouette a quiet bloom.
Stoic as the stairs beneath her feet,
She waits, deciding, in silent feat.

For intervention calls upon her grace,
An uncharted role in this quiet space.
In the ebb and flow of parental clash,
She stands sentinel, a quiet, hopeful ash.