I make words and lines, but I am not made of graphite. You might see me in Wells.

I have a face, though no eyes, mouth or nose In constant motion, numbers always shown

I’m a cosmic vacuum cleaner, I slurp up stars and planets. I’m darker than midnight and I love to eat light. I hang out in space, don’t get too close, you’ll vanish without a trace.

They wait and run to catch me Once they do, they stand in awkward silence Then, one by one they leave me alone Oh, here comes the next round...

I’m worked in silence, prized in trade, a fortune formed, then tucked or weighed. I change with time, by heat or plan; Prove your worth or hit the pan. No roots, no leaves, yet I may grow, Some chase me forever, my name is: