Often hard to get into, you’ll always need to take something out.
It craves reading books, warm jackets and is commonly not without.
Sometimes they’re given a designation engraved in steel or tin.
This one is part of a blue tribe and is named number 5N.

A little tougher this may be, at first you certainly won’t see.
You might not think to lift, but you’ll have to if you get my drift.
Creating all the colors we adore, but it gets no goodbyes as we exit the door.
You close a hatch and push a pad, then off to any machine, that’s totally rad.

One outside, one inside. One small, one large.
One part one of two, one alone and far from new.
No matter if snow, hail, or ice, they think they’re all nice.
But it’s the one in the far corner where you’ll want to garner.

Memories captured in color, teams of our sisters and brothers.
We only have a few of them all, but we still see many standing tall.
Rest under the teams, knowing how proud they’ve made Bob.
Then, stand up, turn around, and take a close look under the squab.

Pent up like an animal, though actually as free as can be.
Turning around and around, always makes me totally dizzy.
Lefty is loosey and righty is tighty, unlike the pen, I’m not that mighty.
Put me away into a dark place, a plus or minus makes up my face.

Spray, wipe, clean, repeat. This place stinks but helps keep the office neat.

It doesn’t matter if it rains, totally solid this remains.
A Saint Patrick’s color shines, but yellow as it brines.
Find a path leading up, on top you’ll find your luck.
Just please don’t get hurt, as you find where it may lurk.

Sitting at the Texas table, EATing with all our chips.
We love that feeling of velvet, just under our fingertips.
Now it’s time for us to quit, packed up, it barely fits.
We can’t wait to hold it again, despite some folks say it’s a sin.
Into David’s Closet it goes, open the top, forget your woes.