I string my recurve with intent...sometimes it's good or malcontent...when it hits you your feelings will wake...if unrequited your heart will break...

I am a sturdy box made to hold a load, Traveled by ship, by train, or by road. Remove my first letter, and I become a fire's core; Remove my last, and I am a giant bowl on a volcano's floor.

I teach the troops to march in line, I kiss the wall to make it mine. One name I wear, two tasks I do, A soldier's rule, a builder's tool.

If you give it a thought you have already lost. I’m not played on a board, with cards or with dice. If you guessed it right, I must apologize.

My hands are always moving, some might say restlessly... I am doomed to repeat my self twice a day!