I come before events unfold, An omen in the air. I whisper hints of things untold, Foreshadowing despair.

What's in my pocket? I'll give you a hint: The head of a fork, an unwrapped mint A lexical invention, Fortuna's balm And grease for the crease of Charon's palm

found underground, and put in fire to be molded, my shine will last throughout time. people wear me, on special occasion they share me, while some will just take me by force. my name is my color, it is no white or rose, but those are others I know.

I hail from ancient times. My first three letters allows life on our planet. My last four letter are numbers you use on a line. My whole is a shadow of time, informing you.

I’m spoken in rage and live beyond the grave, Pharaohs sealed me in tombs of gold and stone, One broken seal and families rot for years, Yet skeptics laugh until I claim their own.