I’m not your plate, but I take the hit, Catching crumbs when forks misfit. I lie beneath your dinner chat. What am I?

It's inside a tree And sometimes seen at night It could mean a promise Or a place for a fight Put it on a finger The one that shares its name It could come from a phone Or be made for a game What am I?

My heart's a grain of sand Covered by my mother When put on a strand I'm gift to one's dear lover

I can twist, pop, or button, Threaded tightly, you will lose nothing. Pin me or hook me, brim fit for a duckling. I’m the peak and always protect you when sunny.

Perched on your cheek, my one eye does see, A circle of glass on a chain - that's me! Half a spectacle for wisdom's own style, A gentleman's glance, with a dapper smile.