Riddle me this.
I move, I step,
as silent as snow.
I grow, I flick,
from lit candle wick.
I leap, I bound,
yet don't leave the ground.
I've arms, I've hair,
less substantial than air.
I pass, I go,
with someone I know.
I dash, I tumble,
but it's never my fumble.
Answer in the comments my riddlers, this ones might be hard, and please don't forget to vote.
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The Riddler's Book
RandomRiddle to your hearts content with a poem or two chucked in for the hell of it, but mainly riddles.
