I start with a wire but now travel through space. I deliver swift words to any far place. My first half tells weight, or a message of old. My second half sends a sharp, written fold.

Light, polish, crafts, and balm, Solid and subtle scent in your palm.

Glass, shelves, adventures abound, A hub where help can always be found.

It's finer than lace, from a spinner's warm embrace. Soft as a cloud on a breezy day, it whispers gently, come what may.

Think of me when you walk into a kitchen, smoke an illicit drug, or an anagram of the octagon sign