In drawers I stay, both lone and pairs, Knit from cotton threads, or sometimes sheep hairs, Worn by the young and the old alike, A cozy hug that feels just right.

You dip, you lift, then lines appear, while I sit silent, ever near. I hold the dark your thoughts compel, a quiet pool where letters dwell.

Surely you know me, I strike one through twelve twice a day. Only if you're on me, will you receive your pay.

Between two trees string Lie back and swing Careful not to flop Or to the ground you'll drop

I adorn and beautify, Framing moments, catching light, A silent artist's touch.