A gentle whisper in fabric's weave, a soft shield on a peach's skin, the tender shroud of an old TV screen's static dream.

First letter is in knife and know, but not in never. The next three are what we hope our kids will do-a parent’s respite during the day. The last four are a way to carry things, sometimes a -lunch. Altogether, you have a larger version of the last four, but holding more.

I can be used to build up walls, but also to bring them down. You can use me for alchemy or to spice up your life.

I am the ancient wages of the soldiers march, The white rot of iron and the crumbling of the arch, I am the tears of the earth left behind by the tide, Where the thirsty find death with water on every side.

Pronounced with one letter, but written with three, The letter that is, is similar to me. I rest in the center of winds, calm as ever, I'm easy to close, it's like flicking a lever. I come in many shades and hues, Of browns and greens and greys and blues.