Twenty horses race at a steady pace, never breaking, never overtaking. Children laughing, children cheering. No losers here, everyone's winning.

It lies puffy on your bed or folded neatly in a cedar chest. In Australia, a doona, in Indonesia, a bed cover, in England a continental quilt. Someone who soothes you when you are sick or sad. Start with three letters that commonly follow dot, then a place of strong walls filled with defenders. Finish with an uncertain interjection.

A single instant locked away, that neither fades nor slips to gray. Though life moves on and moments flow, I keep a past you used to know.

I sleep in stone with silent might, a buried heart of darkest night. But wake me with the furnace flame, and I will bend yet stay the same. I help your blood, I build your blade - in earth and in the forge I'm made.

I start as one who has no home, I hold a circle in my core, My end's a queue, a verse, a row, As whole, I make the young ones soar.