Lantern’s grin, autumn’s kin, Thick of skin, seeds within.

I’m not alive, but I grow; I don’t have lungs, but I need air; I don’t have a mouth, and I can drown.

Though I always seem to be in your hair, There are those who say you should honor me. If you grow me, you might be settling down.

First of his name, built by critters of the rivers, A breaker of flow, yet life’s first giver. He held back the tide but could not the fall, For when love came calling, he lost it all.

I grow when you endure and fade when you rest, Born of the wound, I’m proof you were pressed. I shield you from pain, yet I dull your feel, What am I, both armor and heal?