Portable wardrobes that travel the world, sharing secrets of business and pleasure, wheels whispering stories of wanderlust on airport floors.

Upon my skin are stories of old, My insides are all damp and cold, From the dawn of man's first fire, Shelter within has always transpired What am I?

I'm where the Sun goes down to sleep I inspire sailors to sail waters deep

I'm up high, where the air is crisp, A place to relax, with a view to grip, Stars above, and sky so bright, I'm the ceiling outside, day and night. You can climb me, or take a lift, I shelter you, from the storm's swift shift, A spot to party, or just chill too, Where the world below, is a different view.

As day whispers to night, where earth meets sky, a gentle line unfolds, where dreams quietly lie.