It covers a bay and pops, Keeps warm, what’s up on top. It deters falling water, Whether metal, or of cloth. Prop it up, or cinch it closed and tie the strings in a knot.

To gold, To gold, In times of old. Mixture, Mixture, Immortal elixir?

I can be a portable sunshade, fashion statement or scalp protector. One of the three or even all at the same time!

In gatherings grand, I hold liquid gold, with a stem and a crown, tales of old unfold. Raised in joy, sparkling in light, bearer of toasts, I dance through the night.

A garden built from bones of glass, keeping frost outside as seasons pass.