I am shaped by months and days, but I do not keep track of years. People often mark events on me.

I have a tongue, but I do not have a tooth. I am often seen in stores for hoof.

I’m worn to impress or played to win, I’m filed in court or tailored to skin. I fit when right, I clash when wrong, One word ties threads, games, and law along.

I grin though I am not alive, my hollow stare makes shadows dive. Inside my chest, a fire sleeps, it wakes when darkness softly creeps. I guard the doors till morning’s hue. What am I, that watches you?

You probably own me, and I hold your garments with pride. Knowing or unknowingly, some people hide inside.