Workers building the stairs for Leila’s dream home.

Poem for Leila and the stair builders Leila, your dream house waits where light learns your name. On this lot, the air tastes of possibility, of sawdust and rain. The stairs rise like a quiet chorus, each rung a whispered word: patience, faith, perseverance. The builders’ hands map the future with chalk and trust—measure by measure, cut by careful cut. Their elbows carry the weight of longing, their laughter rings between beams. With every screw, with every sweep of sandpaper, they stitch your hopes into the walls. A