This time of year I jingle With jolly old Kris Kringle And if you hear me sound An angel’s new wings are found

I clack when you laugh, I creak when you groan, I build up your castle from marrow and stone. Dogs beg for my cousins, x-rays make me known.

I tell stories, yet I do not speak. I bleed, yet I do not have blood. And in light, my shadows remain. What am i?

I hold your secrets, your snacks, and your pens, I follow you closely through journeys and bends. I zip, I snap, I sometimes have strings, I travel with students, adventurers, and kings.

I hold your wealth in silent rows, Where numbers sit and interest grows. I mark the edges rivers keep, A steady wall where waters sleep. I tilt a plane so turns feel tight, And something sure when odds aren’t right. One word for trust, for curve, for cash, Name me quick and make your stash.