There's trouble afloat There's danger at sea A group of foul pirates And they grow hungry They seek out a pastry One stuffed to the gills These crusty old sea-dogs Want crust for their ills Where could they find Such a sumptuous treat? With apples or cherry Or cream oh so sweet? They need a direction A map to a tart Diagram dolce They need a ...

I carry food both warm and neat, or send a ball down a polished wooden street. I’m ceramic in one, a motion the next, a single word with meanings mixed.

Replace my second with E and you can wear me Replace my first with P and go back in time Replace my last and put flowers in me. Leave me alone and you can describe outer space

Until I am used, a Blank canvas awaits, Words dance in silent whispers, To tell Fragile stories that deliver. I come from a tree but not with a breeze, Although you can say I am a white leaf

I begin in pieces, but end as a whole. When you finish I vanish entirely.