Brazil, pine, wal, and pea. Or what you call someone when they're acting crazy. Turn me around, then at the end add an 'e' and then I'm something not all can carry.

I have five letters in my name Yet just one of them Bear the sound I make Who am I, I ask you then?

A sturdy bridge made of one whole wood, strong and flat, carrying you from one side to another without a chat. Unless you ask Rose and Jack, they would tell you that this would have been a nice addition with the door, with such chilly decor.

My subjects are honest they say what they are, A buzz, a splash, a rumble from afar. This strange magic when sound becomes word, Yet my own spelling trips every tongue.

The warden of days, watched, it slows in a way. Constantly pointing out when to go or to stay. A circular motion, arms of three on display. Your cuckoo grandfather, ringing hourly plays.