Crafted like a metal place, holds fluttering dreams in a tiny space. Confined and yearning to roam, it whispers to the heart, 'Oh my, how I long for home!'

I dance without feet, I whirl without sound. A flick gives me life, Then I spin all around.

I have legs but never walk, I help you sit but never talk. You pull me out when you need a rest, what am I?

Golden threads from a distant land, the heart of a blossom in powdered form, painting dishes with a sunset hue.

Don't trade the family cow for it You'll need more than one to be full of it If you have something to say, spill it Or make some java and grind it