Riddonkulous

I have no legs to walk the earth, though many rely on my steady frame, I sit in silence through the park, a simple resting place by name. I hold the weight of weary souls, of lovers whispering in the park, And watch the changing of the guard from morning light to sudden dark. I might be made of stone or wood, of iron cast or slatted pine, A place to pause and read a book, or watch the passing clouds align. Though I am stationary here, in courts of law my word is gold, And athletes wait upon my length until their strategy is told.