Dad's Chair

My father's chair has broken again. He found it in a pile of rubbish on Dowlais Top. The old Police Station had been emptied before being pulled down to build a new one and its guts had been stacked for burning. Dad spotted the chair and rescued it. He and now I sit on it. It is comfortable and a thing of beauty. The nice man up the road gave it two new legs less than a month ago, but now the other two have gone. It is sitting crippled on the floor, two legs snapped and out of their sockets. It breaks my heart to look at it. 'Nice man - two new legs, please, as good and true as the other two.'