You find me on the beach while trying to beat the heat. I'm beneath your feet and between your toes and I end up in places you do not want me to go. The kids use me to build castles during play and others use me to watch the hour fall away.

By the ancient conjurer's hand, keeper of time's command, it weaves each day with mystic sand.

I capture time without moving, stealing smiles and moments, painting memories with light.

I leave powder on your fingers and clothes, and become smaller as your creativity flows. I make the pavement a canvas for art, until the rain makes my masterpieces depart.

The origin of sabotage My soul is from the trees If the path's too rocky Then the Dutch might lend you these And Sherlock Holmes would find my mark A most intriguing clue Could it be more obvious? I am a...