Answer:
Each morning I appear to lie at your feet, all day I follow no matter how fast you run. Yet I nearly perish in the midday sun.
Sheets of paper that tell new stories each day.
This is your stomach's way of letting you know you've neglected it.
Seven brothers, five work all day, The other two, just play or pray.
What can't you see, hear or feel, until itβs too late. What shadows love, and shopkeepers hate?
Though not a plant, has leaves. Though not a beast, has spine. Though many wouldn't need this thing, It's more valuable than wine.