Roger may or may not be a walrus. However, both roger and a walrus can be me.

You throw me and yet I return instantly and for everyone that is watching they only see a crescent in the ceiling

It's morning here, whereas riddonkullers to the left of me are still on one ear. To the right of me, it's the middle of the day, and even further away dinner is almost in its way.

A jingle and a rattle you often hear, In pockets or purses it holds things dear. A ring of guardians, small and stout, Ensures you're never locked out.

Wondrous thoughts bring wonderous gifts yet the one that brings all the meaning to any exchange remains through time