I follow you always, yet I never speak. I shrink in the morning, and grow when the day leaks. I mimic your stance, yet never complain. Who am I, that dances in sun and hides in the rain?

I don't serve a real purpose, other than to decorate. I'm a source of pride and beauty, my design simple or rather intricate.

I bear your weight as you recline The softer I am, the more Devine

I’m a wooden road with four rolling feet, I carry you fast without a single seat. I love the park, the rail, the curb, the stair One kick, one push, and suddenly you’re there. What am I?

I can hide in the attic or drift in the wind, I’m soft as a whisper but born from heat. I vanish with water, yet I tell of fire’s past. What am I?