Riddle 1.
Not spun, or simply woven
My skin as smooth as a mirror
You stain my face, contort my body
I can hold the greatest power
And pass it with a glance
Yet you are prone to cast me off
Without a second thought
Riddle 2.
Together with my brethren, we bend nature’s will
You think me insubstantial, never making myself a burden
Yet at the end of my days, I lie alone forgotten
You spurn to touch me where I lie, although I oft catch your eye
Riddle 3.
I bare my teeth in a grimace
Yet I do not frighten you
You are content to hold me in your hand
Each day I fight on your behalf
Making each opponent fall in line
Riddle 4.
When I’m born I grow in steps
Finally standing tall and straight
I give myself to my job
And with the heat of work
Drops roll down my back
All the while I keep my posture straight
Even knowing that my days are numbered