In fields of green, I stand so bright, A golden sun in morning's light. With wishes blown, I take to flight, A gentle puff, I'm gone from sight.

I can speak in every voice, sing every song, even give every speech. A great connector of man, though for you to hear my words, I must sit on your head. What am I?

Cleaned and polished in your drawer I sit Getting me dirty is a job that fits Big or small your face warps wide If you focus hard you can bend me with your mind

I roar and I slurp with greedy delight, I swallow your crumbs both day and night. Socks beware when I start to zoom, what am I, devourer of the room?

For some, seeing things becomes clearer. For others, not so much. What am I ?