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...

Upon the hoof I bear the strain, of pounding earth through sun and rain. Above a door, I’m placed with care, a sign that luck is welcome there.

Round and round we go, A painted horse, a fleeting dream, Never truly moves.