At the crossroads where paths divide, A silent guide stands with arms spread wide. Directions given, none to abide, A sentinel of journeys, by the roadside.

Stamped with stories from places I’ve been, A little book tucked safely within. I open up gates from shore to resort - Without me, your journey might fall rather short.

Mountains rise on either side, I stretch below, long and wide. Rivers wander through my floor, what am I at nature’s core?

I surround the castle, deep and wide, Keeping foes away with watery pride. What am I?

You can see me in Miami, you can see me at a show. You can see me breathe through one hole and use the same one to blow.