When little pieces are falling from the sky, It can be gathered and is kind of dry. Push it together, make it round, make it tight, You are born when three spheres unite, A touch of wood with a rocky sight, No one had this ever fried.

I have no voice, but I speak of old, Carved in stone or cast in mold. I can hold a web page, a pill, or a law, What am I?

I use my beam to keep sailors safe, away from rocky shoals. If my warning is ignored, davy jones scores a gooooooaaaaaaallllll!

I can be twisted, I can be turned,To open a door or change what is heard.I have no eyes, but I am a head,Found on a drawer or next to your bed.What am I?

A tool of math with a royal name Of wood, steel or plastic frame Tiny ticks count up or down Governs space, it earns a crown