Summoned by sunlight, I quietly appear. Marks by the devil, some say with fear. I prefer angel kisses, a happier sound, I’m rarely just one, I arrive in a crowd. I grace your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, I deepen in summer, and fade after weeks.

I cannot satisfy hunger or thirst. I am not in your lungs or your blood. I am dismissed and derided. Called foolishness, delusion, and vanity. None of that changes my importance. Without me, you die. Simple as that.

Rinse and repeat, I might become this I may call or write, but I'll never be missed If making a typo, a tool, I become And the fruit of my labor is spread by some

I’m a wooden road with four rolling feet, I carry you fast without a single seat. I love the park, the rail, the curb, the stair One kick, one push, and suddenly you’re there. What am I?

I speak without a mouth and write without a pen. I travel through walls but never take a step. I can be caught, but never held. I can be broken without being touched. What am I?