Where sand whispers secrets old, of treasures lost and pirates bold. No man is an island and neither am i, but you are sure to find me nearby.

Language of the depleted Spoken by man and beast Carrying the silhouette of a roar I am to a roar, what banality is to brutality

I float on my back like I’ve solved every worry, Cracking my dinner without any hurry. I hold hands at night so we don’t drift apart, A whiskered prankster with a clever heart. I’m not quite a bear, yet I swim with a grin. Who am I, splashing laughter wherever I’ve been?

What kind of tree can you carry in your hand?

Gentle breeze alights, nature's painted whispers fly, change on silken wings.