A lovely figure made of glass and sand measures time as it slips away.

In the kitchen's dance, I twirl with grace, turning liquid into airy lace. My metal fingers spin and play, blending smoothly in a rhythmic ballet.

I visit when the world goes quiet, Unbound by clocks or gravity. I stitch the past to futures unspoken, Let kings beg, and the broken fly. I vanish with the rising light, Yet linger where hope dares to stay. Name me not while I hold you close. For once you wake, I slip away.

Riddle me this, I'm something long, blunt, top is furry and can be used orally. Tell me who am I??

I have a round top called a head, But no eyes, no nose, and no bread. When you strike me, I make a beat, My sound gets people on their feet. What am I?