The final stage before it’s dark Some older ones still barely glow But touch me and I’ll leave my mark A painful welt with smudge bestowed

Winnie cosplayed a cloud trying to get some. Hubby said it trying to get some. My comb doesn’t have any, does yours?

I’m born when you look, yet die when you stare. I weigh nothing at all, but crush you with care. I vanish when chased, appear when you flee. I bind every choice yet swear you are free. I’m sharper than truth, more cruel than a lie. I live in the moment you wish would pass by.

A lovely figure made of glass and sand measures time as it slips away.

In the kitchen's dance, I twirl with grace, turning liquid into airy lace. My metal fingers spin and play, blending smoothly in a rhythmic ballet.