I guard the sands where secrets sleep, With lion’s strength and wisdom deep. I ask no words, yet riddles cling, To ancient stone and silent wing. Part beast, part thought, part mythic link. Name me now, what do you think?

Somewhere in Europe Crowds loudly cheer For twenty-two men Chasing a sphere

A silver serpent crosses the land. Drawing miles of straight lines, sometimes a bend. It never sleeps but lays on a bed. Like stairs taking people up, yet it always stays flat.

Used to contemplate or have fun. My parties are known worldwide. While my waving is constant, some stop to see a world in a piece of me.

Filled with precipitation, And not to boast, The most diverse biome. Finer roast.