Light as air, it dances on the breeze without a care. A gentle touch, like a mother's kiss, on wings of grace, it's pure bliss.

Color from a can Gets transferred to a pan Starts out wet but when it dries Can bring tears to the eyes

Pirates hunt me, dragons hoard me, maps may guide explorers toward me. Some of me may shine and gleam, yet I am more than I first seem.

Some are built of stone In ancient and desert lands Others are built on a lie grown Promising riches that slip through hands

I have a neck but have no head, I’m born from effort, sweat, and dread. Though made of silver, bronze, or gold, I am not something bought or sold.