I borrow my glow and spend it each night, A thief of the sun dressed softly in white. I pull at the seas without touching their skin, I wax and I wane as old clocks begin. Named yet unnamed, I vanish by noon. Look up when it’s dark, and you’ll know me soon.

I'm born of orchid, yet lack floral grace, A culinary friend, in time and space. Though plain I seem, my essence is grand, Lending depth to flavors, across the land. What am I?

I have no voice and no words of my own, so I borrow yours. I have no face, but need space to be heard Inside or outdoors

Mu first three, a container most preservative. My last three, sounds like a contagious sleep signal. Put both together and in some places I am grand. A deep crevasse, a scar on the motherland.

An abandoned masterpiece, a woven tapestry, collecting dust in corners.