I'm worn in pairs but have no feet, I serve you well on court or street. Though I have a tongue, I cannot speak.

I'm the Atlantic to the ants, A vast and murky sea, To birds I'm an oasis, They drink and bathe in me To children I'm a fun distraction, In which they stomp and play, But to the sun I'm nothing, As it quickly burns me away

I have a button but I am not a shirt. I live by the door but I never go inside. Visitors push me to announce they have arrived.

I report great triumphs and dramatic woes, then get folded into props for schoolhouse shows.

What do you do when ink soaks through a magazine, when the law is on your trail, when your nose won’t stop dripping, and when you want to become mayor?