In hands it finds its place, aiding craftsmen with gentle grace. Fixing woes with its silent might, a trusty friend in every plight.

I burn without fire, yet turn every heart into ash. I whisper in shadows, making monsters out of ghosts. The more you feed me, the hungrier I grow, yet I consume only the one who holds me.

The dove came back with my leaf, and I was a goddess's gift to a city. I grow on branches that carry nothing less than peace.

A house, a picture, a bed, I come in many a form; Found in buildings, work, Museums are norm. I give structure, Foundation, protection. I hold memories tight Or point windows’ direction. What am I? You’ll never guess, But A-type is the best.

I'm vital for George to swing through the trees, Alternatively I hosted short videos until twenty-seventeen, But nowadays I decorate wineries and serve up grapes, I'm a firm favourite with all kinds of apes