Remotely poetic

We got a new telly at the end of last year
Which, in turn, meant a surfeit of goggle box gear
The older remotes grew remote in our mind
As we had new remotes under cushions to find
So as no one cares if we've got 'em or nay
I put 'em safe on the stairs - at the bottom - to stay

And they never did move from one week to the next
I kept having a niggling thought that left me perplexed
Did anyone now claim control - or protection
Of these outlying and old means of IR projection?
So in order to check if they were noticed or seeked
I raised them a tread at a time - once a week

They are now over half way up the apples and pears
And still it would seem no one looks, no one cares
They'll soon be on the landing at the peak of the gaff
And then B will see them and think what a faff
And she'll say to me "Move those bits we don't want 'em."
And I'll tell her I have, several times, but in steps, like a quantum.