Round and round I go without a care, serving treats with a gentle spin. At the center of the feast, I twirl and share, making sure all can partake in the win.

Beach and desert sands: do this to search. It fits in hand. It also divides strands: from roots they’re swept with teeth that span. With cuts, it’s in demand. A greasers friend and slick back plan.

In autumn’s heart, a gem so bright, like cider’s glow in candlelight. It’s not an apple, nor a pear, but shines with warmth beyond compare. I may be blue so that's not fair.

For some I'm a breakfast delight. Cooked, baked or cold overnight. But not everyone loves me as such. Especially children hate my guts.

Tear me off and scratch my head, what once was red is black instead