Sometimes I feel invisible but I know I’m sharp. It’s funny-we share a feature but you keep me away from yours. Some pass through me, some can’t find me and some can’t move me. What am I?

I dance with blades both sharp and bright, opening wide, then closing tight. Two partners moving side by side, to part what once was unified.

I have no hinges, key, or lid, Yet golden treasure inside is hid. I must be broken before I can be used, And if I fall, I am easily bruised.

I have an arm that can't hold a hand, but that will fling stones across the land.

Upon a slender stem I stand, raised high by many a noble hand. Though filled with cheer from rim to base, I bring each feast a touch of grace.