In the vast palette of the roaming road,
I am a canvas, white as freshly fallen snow.
Four wheels my shoes, the world my wide abode,
A nomad's haven, wherever it may go.

Within my walls, adventure stories told,
Under starry skies or the sun's bright band.
A moving sanctuary, not of silver or gold,
But of freedom, on highways grand.

What make am I, with doors wide as a welcoming hand,
A traveller's trusty steed, their roaming command?
A home that moves across the land I span,
A white campervan, part of nature's grand plan.

A Master of vehicles this answer be
A mover of Vespa and Oswiu
A home to Andrew on his travels
Provides a man his lonely castle