I gently weep when certain bugs come calling. My neck has frets, though worry is not my style. Heroes make me sing, lovers make me lie. Pick at me enough and I will tell your favorite stories.

I’m round and sweet, with edges crisp, A little treat you’ll want to kiss. With chocolate chips or sugar bright, I disappear before the night. What am I?

A glassy embrace cradles life in miniature, where emerald dreams dwell, kissed by the sun yet sheltered from the storm's might.

You can come out of me without ever going in You may go inside me to not be found out You may stand before my abundance and still find I may not contain anything.

There a two that are gold..... Where food is sold ...