The Stool

A spindle or two,
Some pegs and some glue
Just a stool
But maybe more

Built by a man
With capable hands
Back in nineteen
and sixty four

A few pairs of legs and a seat
A little worn, a little beat
From years of keeping people,
Off the floor

Somewhere to rest
When in trouble or in jest
But if you sit too long,
You'll be sore

Four legs and a top
That won't split, crack, or rot
It's about as sturdy
As an old oak front door

Somewhere to be sat
It's never been more than that
Just a stool,
But maybe more