A lumberjack's tool A short word, kinda cool Or use as a body spray To keep ugly odors at bay

I breathe no air, yet flames may rise, A quiet heart where fire lies. I do not hunger, yet I feed On sparks and fuel to serve your need. Cold and still when left alone, But quick to warmth when I am known. With turning hands or subtle press, I wake to life, I burn, I bless. I hold no taste, I smell no spice, Yet shape the meals you savor twice. From gentle simmer, soft and low, To roaring heat where passions grow. I cradle pots, I kiss the pan, I aid the art of every hand. No voice have I, yet songs are made In bubbling notes and oils that braid. What am I, both tame and wild, A keeper of flame, by humans styled?

Upon a cap I often sway, marking a special graduation day. Though made of many hanging threads, I celebrate all the many paths you’ve tread.

Tss, tss... Cucumber Melon, Love Spell You lovely ladies wear it well Amber Romance, Pear Glace Take them in, waft away Feeling nostalgic? Represented? How do you apply these aromas scented?

I only succeed in doing my job by destroying myself in the process.