I am born from trees but am flat as a board, I can hold all your secrets or a king's spoken word.

Almost always found on a desk or workbench, I'm nothing like a wrench. I'm good at attaching things to an anchor point, just not too much at once or papers become disconjoined.

Catch a breeze to scent your linens But if it rains, you’ll be unpinnin’ Stretch me out to hang up high And soon your laundry will be dry

I have ribs but no lungs. I have a door but no rooms. I am made of bars, but I serve no drinks. I can keep danger inside, or keep danger outside. Without a key, my shape defines your world. What am I?

No windows greet the morning sun, Yet many stories here are spun. Iron sings and torches sway, Few who enter wish to stay. What am I?