Feathers, I am as light, But quite heavy if squeezed tight. I'm seen as clean and pure, but often talked about with dirty terms. What am I?
the answer is Snow.
Often talked of, never seen, Ever coming, never been. Daily looked for, never here, Still approaching, coming near. Thousands for my visit wait, But alas, for their fate, Though they expect me to appear, They will never find me here. What am I?
You write on me and secrets I can keep. In places never seen. I spin like a top. Though stiff as a board, I’m often described like a mop. What am I ?
I am black as night but filled with light. I can be seen, even through a screen. I hold many secrets, waiting for them to be discovered. What am I?
Feathers I have sixteen, but I am not a goose. If I lose any of them, then I am of no use. I'm always shot but I'm not a bird. What am I?
