In my youth, I was a tree, yet now, I'm thin and free, I carry thoughts from you to me, my uses plain to see. I've been known to fold and fly with glee.

Four little holes are all I need, to keep two sides as one.

I’m made of stones, but I’m not a wall, I cover the ground where footsteps fall. Old roads love me, piece by piece. What am I?

I have no voice, yet I tell a story. I have no heartbeat, yet I rest upon your skin. I can be born from fire, forged from time, or pulled from the dark depths of the sea. Kings have fought for me, and lovers exchange me to make a promise.

I’m a little slice of sunshine green, With a tangy twist hiding beneath. I wear a crumbly golden floor, And a creamy cloud is what I’m for. Sweet meets sour in every bite, A tiny taste of tropical delight! What am I?