Soft breath, secrets told, Fleeting sound, then it's gone, Silence is its tomb.

I speak without words and glide without wings, I leap through the air with graceful spins. Satin on my feet, a stage bathed in light, I tell silent stories throughout the night.

As a weapon of precise aim, I'm often associated with a board on a bar's wall or with the toxic potential of a jungle frog

I am a dark shape against the light, with no fine features shown in sight. Not the shadow cast at your feet, just your outline, dark and neat.

Thou see'st the shimmering sheet that shrouds the earth? Doth dance in sunlit splendor yet vanishes in warmth. Cold comfort to those who dare tread its fragile form.