I may seem real yet I am not,
Once you're gone I'm often forgot.
Time here stretches and it shrinks,
It all depends on how you think.
I may be good, I may be bad,
I may be the same as one you've had.
What am I?
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?
Of no use to one, yet absolute bliss to two.
The small boy gets it for nothing.
The young man has to lie or work for it.
The old man has to buy it.
The baby's right, the lover's privilege, the hypocrite's mask.
To the young girl, faith;
To the married woman, hope;
To the old maid, charity.
What am I?
For thousands of years,
Seen only in tale.
The wind as a sail,
For one thunderous gale.
Shiny stores rich in lore,
The burning temper, like Earth's core.
What am I?
