A flat plane of black and white, where fingers dance in rhythmic flight. Letters and symbols in neat array, guiding thoughts with every play.

Pull the door or push it wide, I always stay at its side.

I begin with a leap, but then slow to a hop. I can defeat any opponent, but only at two and ten o'clock. With seven sisters, until the end of the line, Ever onward I march, one step at a time. At the finish I'm rewarded with a title and crown, And an enemy king I need to hunt down.

When the moon takes the stage and the stars start to glow, Most drift off to dreams, but I put on a show. The world settles down, drifting onto a blanket of black, While my sleepy thoughts keep marching their track. The sheep line up, but never get counted, My yawns keep arriving, but slumber stays unfounded. The pillow is waiting, the blankets are near, But my eyes stay wide open, dreams won't appear The clock’s little hands seem to crawl through the night, As I wander through darkness until morning’s light.

In kitchens I dance with a bubbly crown, On waves I appear when storms come around. I’m light as a whisper, I vanish with ease, Yet I gather in clusters on rivers and seas. In mugs I rise when the dark brews are poured, A soft little blanket that drinkers adore. I’m born from a mix of liquid and air, A fleeting white carpet that’s here, then not there. You cannot hold me, I slip through your hand, I sparkle and shimmer but never will stand. In tubs I bring laughter, in oceans I roam So tell me, dear thinker, what am I?