I lie flat, yet cover well, a quiet guardian for feet and tale. A tapestry of fibers underfoot, where crumbs and tales often root.

You pump me to get swole. To find me you make a big hole. Tony Stark is this type of man. Make steel with carbon? Yes I can.

I start when you close, to track that which you hold. A stores system is not complete without me, as you don't know how many you hold. So go and count, each item must match, that from the corporate overlords.

I'm soft and wet, yet can harden like stone; I'm shaped by your hands, but have a mind of my own. From mud I'm born, in fire I'm reborn, A vessel for water, or a form to adorn.

I sometimes clink, I hold with care, and carry your food unless you share. I’m happy to serve, but don’t you drop me, or I might just shatter with a sad little sound!