I have eight arms and clever notions, I outsmart traps with smooth devotion. I paint myself to match the floor, then escape through the tiniest door.

Like a stream of though, I can take multiple forms: In the physical world, I’m an artery for wildlife; In the world of ideas, oft do-I compare time or life; Yet, across the world, my meanings stay uniform.

Granny's garden grows a gentle gem, glowing with grace. A prickly protector with petals that please, prized for its perfume and pretty poise.

We work together with one another Carrying loads to the colony Just to feed my dear mother. Guess the name of me.

A spark's best friend, I lie in wait, ready to ignite passion or flame. I am the matchmaker for warmth, kindling the dance of light in the fire’s heart.