Riddle me this.
I move, I step,
as silent as snow.
I grow, I flick,
from lit candle wick.
I leap, I bound,
yet don't leave the ground.
I've arms, I've hair,
less substantial than air.
I pass, I go,
with someone I know.
I dash, I tumble,
but it's never my fumble.
Answer in the comments my riddlers, this ones might be hard, and please don't forget to vote.
DU LÄSER
The Riddler's Book
Slumpmässig kategoriRiddle to your hearts content with a poem or two chucked in for the hell of it, but mainly riddles.
