I thrive where damp and shadows yearn, In ancient woods where few still turn. No blooms to show, no seeds I earn, My name’s the rhyme you seek...

I come in the morning, I come in the night. I am not quite dark, I am not quite light. I bring the sun, or take it away, I am the transition of the day. What am I?

I have hands but I cannot clap. I have a face but I cannot smile. I run but I never get tired or go anywhere. You look at me many times during the day to know when to do things. I can be found on walls and wrists. What am I?

I grow when you give me too much fuel, Ignore your rest, break every rule. As tired, slow, and out of spark, Though once you shined so bright in dark.

I go up and down but never move, connecting worlds yet staying in one groove. What am I?