I sparkle with a thousand hues, though none of them are mine. One gentle touch, one tiny pop, and I no longer shine.

I am hammer, I am saw, I am plier, wrench and more. I live to serve your craft and law, What am I behind the workshop door?

Tiny and bright, A flash of heat that brings light. Can start a great fire Or dance on a wire

In hands it finds its place, aiding craftsmen with gentle grace. Fixing woes with its silent might, a trusty friend in every plight.

A house, a picture, a bed, I come in many a form; Found in buildings, work, Museums are norm. I give structure, Foundation, protection. I hold memories tight Or point windows’ direction. What am I? You’ll never guess, But A-type is the best.