I have legs but don't walk I hold you steady

I swallow dough and breathe out heat, A metal mouth where meals are sweet. I don’t eat, yet I help you dine; What am I, warm and built to shine?

Towering over edge, For those who drag and dredge, A monument to focus aim, But don’t go up the ledge. Spinning beams beckon, A landmark taming dark. Known to have a keeper, Who gives the saving spark.

Though not part of a tree, you could say it’s a log. Trophy logs made of gold are hung on artists walls. You can speak on or off it, drop a needle atop it, Or break it, just make sure that Guinness can watch it.

What’s every color made, But mostly black and blue? Rolling its head on a page, Bleeding out, just for you.