Answer:
I move without wings, Between silken string, I leave as you find, My substance behind.
People are hired to get rid of me. I'm often hiding under your bed. In time I'll always return you see. Bite me and you're surely dead.
This is rectangular, hollow and has a lid, and where you’ll find it you might wonder, it is just six feet under. What is it?
So cold, damp and dark this place. To stay you would refrain, yet those who occupy this place do never complain.
I am the outstretched fingers that seize and hold the wind. Wisdom flows from me in other hands. Upon me are sweet dreams, my merest touch brings laughter
Why was the cook arrested?
Difficult
Animal
Easy
Food
Funny
Kids
Logic
What am I?