I have many applications, To assist rubber on roads. As a tourniquet temp. Hydraulic helper for loads. Building me can be deadly, Something often explodes. Unless your vessel’s the lesser, Twenty thousand leagues below.

I stand tall, yet hollow inside, A fortress green, where secrets hide. Though wood I seem, a grass I claim, What am I, whispered in nature's name?

I show you what you are, But I cannot speak. I reflect your face, Yet I have no mind to seek.

I follow you everywhere, I copy your every move. You can’t hold me, But I’m always with you.

A steamy companion in a porcelain cup, whispers of leaves in hot water's embrace, often shared with a biscuit's crunchy grace.