Answer:
I spend the day at the window, go to the table for meals, and hide at night. What am I?
I have a name written on me, but it isnβt my name. Men plant me, but I never grow. They look at me and see their future, rotting in my bloom.
I go up when the rain comes down. What am I?
Better touch me before you proceed to second.
I am black, white, and read all over. What am I?
A little house full of meat, no door to go in and eat.