Soft companions that whisper on wooden floors, they hug tired feet and chase away the chill, worn at dawn's first light and twilight's gentle touch, they stay close but never roam.

I’m the only thing you’re happy to see ruined by candles. People sing to me before attacking me with knives.

From regal crowns, I proudly sprout, In forest halls, where creatures rout. A branching peak on nature's throne, Majestic horns of bone alone.

I might be in a link Sometimes you find me in the mail But pair meg up with a saw And things fall apart.

In summer's sway, with a rind so thick, inside lies the sun's juicy trick. Green or yellow, sweet and round, a picnic's joy can be found.