My life is often a volume of grief, your help is needed to turn a new leaf. Stiff is my spine and my body is pale, but I’m always ready to tell a tale. What am I?
RESULT: a BOOK
Experience my height As you conquer your fright And behold a new sight
I am fun for most folks Hanging high by my spokes Above the elms and oaks
So why not climb on in And take me for a spin? Let your round trip begin
What am I?
You write on me and secrets I can keep. In places never seen. I spin like a top. Though stiff as a board, I’m often described like a mop. What am I ?
I have many feathers to help me fly. I have a body and head, but I'm not alive. It is your strength which determines how far I go. You can hold me in your hand, but I'm never thrown.
My branches bear a canopy, shielding your eyes from harm. My root draws life to suit my needs and saves me from the storms. My sun is perched above my trunk, prepared to shed its light. My twig you snap, if e'er you need to turn to day the night. Who am I?
