I’m a wooden road with four rolling feet, I carry you fast without a single seat. I love the park, the rail, the curb, the stair One kick, one push, and suddenly you’re there. What am I?

I can hide in the attic or drift in the wind, I’m soft as a whisper but born from heat. I vanish with water, yet I tell of fire’s past. What am I?

I’m a small burst of happiness, often sold by the piece; A rebel of reason that hurts waistlines and teeth. I vanish too swiftly, though long I’m pursued, A wrapper of promise, temptation renewed.

Iconic in destruction, Waste away, defined, Won't swallow what I'm fed, In case you change your mind

In the cupboards I'm found, my patterns are sure to charm her. I'm stepped on the ground, or on a charming knight's armor.