I am a parasite on the body.
I bite clean through the skin and hang on.
Biting without fear, often I hang clear in the air
yet my victim welcomes me.
Somewhat male, I prefer to bite females
(although I’ve been known to bite the other kind too).
People have called me beautiful
even ornamental to see,
and my body flashes goldish or silvery
and my back a glittering beauty
as I hang swinging from my victim who loves me so much.
I am one not American
and my blood is not red.
Winged, I do not fly.
Well-footed, I cannot walk.
Well-fed, you never see me sit at table.
Although my companions love to speak
I’m not spoken to.
Should I die, my mother would not miss me,
no kin folk cry their sorrow,
no friends come sulking at my funeral.
Named, I do not know my name.
Taller than this riddle is long,
who am I?
Soft, yet I must withstand countless blows;
and although I take them well, they steal my tan.
Like a dumb snake I roll up my tail and head,
yet leave my middle exposed;
and I am as thin as paper, and paper visits me often.
We chatter, I travel my allotted way, and paper fakes it:
but when the blows on me come hard, it’s paper who takes it.
I am one who is tall, and stands upright
and though you may say I do not eat well,
it does not matter, for I am one to be tall and thin.
For this I am famous throughout the whole world:
though a million be in line, I’m the one who’ll be first.
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