I am a path made of metal tracks. Trains travel on me to carry people and goods. What am I?

Pies may cool upon the sill, while coffee starts to steam. Before they’re thought to be complete, someone reaches for me.

Time passing by... Don't kick me just yet! So much to do: you might keep a list, for there's so little time!

I have no hands, yet I can tie. I help things climb, swing, or fly. I may be twisted, braided, or spun, But pull too hard, and I come undone. What am I?

I am born from the cold sky, But I only take shape in your hands. The more you roll me, the bigger I grow, But bring me inside, and I vanish into water.