You put it in your mouth daily, and you keep it. You spit it you live, You swallow, you die.

When you go on a hike, put al your stuff in me, so you can walk around hands free.

One goes up, one goes down, trading places round and round. We never move from where we stay yet rise and fall in endless play.

Born of wood and iron’s art, I creak along and play my part. Behind a beast or pushed by hand, I bear your burdens, my dear friend.

A vibrant tale brushed upon the wall, where stories of gods and men stand tall. Ancient colors whisper from their frame, a still life that time cannot tame.