Some like to see me go up, whereas others like to see me go down. I like to be stepped on, yet I never complain, Sometimes I’m slippery, sometimes a bit plain. I’ll shimmer if you guess what I am.

I have a spine, but no bones; a face and a back, but no head.

Round and round in cars and clocks, I grab with my teeth and turn in my box. Big pushes small around smaller pin. Some call me simple, but all need my spin.

I sprout from a head, but I'm not a horn. Some will try to collect me, their wall to adorn. Mostly worn my males, it's true. But there are cases where females have me too.

I am a collection of ghosts, once whole but now scattered. I dance in the morning light but vanish when the room grows dark. I have no life, yet I am made of it. I have no weight, but I can bury a memory.