I'm in every room but I'm not furniture. You can look through me, but I'm not a mirror.

I’m six in a row but not marching in sense, A scrambled formation that still feels immense. You touch me to speak though I’m never a voice Name the odd lineup that wasn’t a choice.

Singular, usually found next to where you lay your head for the night. Or Singular, hopefully, leaving your bed at first light.

Used in the old days to brighten the scene, burning bright white, though my name suggests green. Language recast me to what focus would mean, decide who gets glory, and who stays unseen.

Made from vegetables or plants, I provide energy. But too much of me can contribute to obesity. Therefore, some dieters prefer a chemical counterpart. By the way, you might whisper this word to your sweetheart,