Twenty horses race at a steady pace, never breaking, never overtaking. Children laughing, children cheering. No losers here, everyone's winning.

It lies puffy on your bed or folded neatly in a cedar chest. In Australia, a doona, in Indonesia, a bed cover, in England a continental quilt. Someone who soothes you when you are sick or sad. Start with three letters that commonly follow dot, then a place of strong walls filled with defenders. Finish with an uncertain interjection.

A single instant locked away, that neither fades nor slips to gray. Though life moves on and moments flow, I keep a past you used to know.

A canopy above with a carpet of grass, where whispers of breeze meet the ceaseless chatter of crowds; a roof without walls, hosting gatherings proud. What am I?

The first one was the most practical of the seven wonders of the ancient world. Located in Alexandria, Egypt, it used mirrors to reflect light. Alternatively, a residence that is not serious.