In a drawer, I quietly reside, bending and twisting, I keep things tied. A gentle hug for scattered sheets, a humble servant doing tidy feats.

A nut's steady date, the sky's zigzag, and what a spooked horse does.

Has two wooden arms but cannot hold, Sits gently on liquid, bright and cold. You must sit backward to make it go, Pulling merrily on arms to and fro.

I can hide beneath the soil, waiting to become something beautiful or hang overhead, waiting to chase away the dark.

I’m a picture that’s super wide, Showing mountains, trees, and tide. You must turn your head to see, All the world in front of me.