Answer:
Tool of thief, toy of queen. Always used to be unseen. Sign of joy, sign of sorrow. Giving all likeness borrowed.
Big as a biscuit, deep as a cup, but even a river canβt fill it up. What is it?
What goes further the slower it goes?
My life is often a volume of grief, your help is needed to turn a new leaf. Stiff is my spine and my body is pale. But I'm always ready to tell a tale.
You can spin, wheel and twist, but this thing can turn without moving. What is it?
What never gets any wetter no matter how hard it rains?