Gliding through Venice, Or among the clouds in Cape Town, I can lift your spirit high, And bring you back down. What am I?

I have three stages, With kids coming every day, Monday-Friday, Backpacks grueling in my hallways.

I hang on walls yet never fall, I hold no pen, yet schedule all. With numbered teeth I bite each year - Twelve little mouths that disappear.

In a frame, a world anew, Colors dance and stories brew. Brush and canvas in embrace, Capturing moments in vibrant grace.

Most people think of art when they think of me, but there is so much more to see, like history, nature, science, technology. All can be found within my many a wall. In fact, sometimes I don't even have walls at all.