A sea of red, when all is dead, From broken ground I rise. A cure for pain, a sweet sedative strain, Or cloud your mind and blur your eyes.

I’m something you ask for before you enter, A polite little something so no one’s offended. You wait for a yes before carrying on.. But I’m orange, I’m sweet, and I grow on a farm. What am I?

In summer's sway, with a rind so thick, inside lies the sun's juicy trick. Green or yellow, sweet and round, a picnic's joy can be found.

I used to be one, but aeons wore me down, From what i am now, time's passage was drawn. Cast me in flame, unite me true, and once i am pure, you will see through.

Brown and dead, A body with no head. Found in water and not buried underground, Floating away and not sinking down.