I run over fields and woods all day. Under the bed at night I sit, never alone. My tongue hangs out, up and to the rear, waiting to be filled in the morning. What am I?
Only one color, but not one size.
Stuck at the bottom, yet I easily fly.
Present in sun, but not in rain.
Doing no harm, and feeling no pain.
What Am I?
If a blue house is made out of blue bricks, a yellow house is made out of yellow bricks and a pink house is made out of pink bricks, what is a green house made of?