A word to describe something that’s more hip Or a place to store munchies on a long trip.

In the corner it stands, with a welcoming grin, Swallowing scraps, from breakfast to din. Like Grandma's old apron, it catches the spill, Always there to tidy, with patience and skill.

Three balls in the air, Swinging, catching, a blur, Master of the toss.

I could trim hair out of your face Or I could hold it in place I might be a part of a whole Or a quick brush by a car out of control What am I?

I’m the small, stubborn sentinel that bars the world from slipping in. Silent, simple, easily broken - yet without me, chaos walks right in.