You walk into a room and see a bed. On the bed, there are two dogs, five cats, a giraffe, eight cows, and a goose. There are also three doves flying above the bed. How many legs are on the floor?

I follow you always, yet I never speak. I shrink in the morning, and grow when the day leaks. I mimic your stance, yet never complain. Who am I, that dances in sun and hides in the rain?

A golden crown changes into white fluff. Parachutes carried away on the wind. Touching the ground, ready to restart the cycle.

Summoned by sunlight, I quietly appear. Marks by the devil, some say with fear. I prefer angel kisses, a happier sound, I’m rarely just one, I arrive in a crowd. I grace your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, I deepen in summer, and fade after weeks.

I’m narrow, I’m nimble, I cut through the tide, with paddle in hand, a lone rider glides. I read the same forward as I do behind, what am I that floats on waves so wide?