No doors have I, or windows too. But, I am a room, this much is true.

You're happy to see me when I first appear. You take me for granted when I am here. You'll see my true colors before I go. It's a chore to get rid of me, but we both know you'll welcome me back next year. I'm a fair-weather friend.

I balance on one leg to watch the sky. I raise cities without taking a step.I fold into luck and sit on a shelf.When you’re nosy, you do me yourself. What am I?

I exist as a colour and a spice, but I am not as bright as others in either. You might find me in flowers, too.

I build up castles, I tear down mountains, I make some men blind, I help others to see. What am I?