I sit between the creature below and rider above, your tush will thank me after time on a back. With a bridle and reins, you may take control, so long as you do not sit on the horn.

With hand and flute a melody heard. Say duh with this you’ll bear the word. To mime a time, you can look absurd. On this, this fish or cake may burn.

I have many pieces, but no voice to speak, A challenge for the mind, for the strong and the meek. When all is in place, my purpose you seek.

I belong on a table, In a garden, or where one path becomes two.

I am born from stone, but I crumble to dust to leave my mark. I speak in white on walls of slate, teaching lessons or drawing games, yet the touch of a damp cloth vanishes me forever.