I house the wings that long to soar, yet none may leave my open door. I give them space to flap and glide, but just beyond, true freedom lies.

I am the infant son of kings crown'd with ice and stone. I wear a verdant coat of green that shines when winds are blow'n. I roll and roll with feet unmov'd, on me human youth b'come kings. Some choose to die upon me, Choose wisely before cutting the strings.

Either flesh or plastic, still holds milk.

I am a soldier who can never retreat, Or a deal made on a city street. I rhyme with dawn, Shawn, and prawn. If I reach the end, the crown is drawn.

Waves in water Out in a ring The first three are a tear Toss a stone, you've got this thing