A yellow one is home to us all. another is ordered, with mustard and all. On a peg-filled board, I meet my fate. Three hits is all I can take.

I can warm your hearth and home. I can run wild if left alone. Boon or bane, I'm not to blame, For I am but a simple...

I hold the march of time in view, With pages turning, days anew. Noting all things in my silent tome, Once on paper, now on your phone.

Crafted from various things, to some I’m quite the fling. Yet to some my mere presence can be frightening. I assure you most have felt me, in some shape or fashion. While many may hold on to me with fervent passion. What am I?

I dance without feet in circles tight, Taming chaos both day and night. I beat the air yet leave no bruise, Turn thin to thick with a metal muse. What am I?