Small and sharp, I fly by hand, toward a target where I land.

I carry your baggage, but I don't reply. Children say 'Again!' and the parents sigh.

Though I possess a single eye, I neither wink nor look nearby. Instead I help with cloth and thread, mending tears where they have spread.

When your vision is fuzzy, you should use these.

I wear a tiny hat but have no head, I protect your finger from needle and thread. I have many dimples but I never smile, Keeping you safe from sharp points all the while. What am I?