I hold the sea, or a kid's sandy dream, A bucket's one name, in a playful scheme, Handles help me carry, what's inside with glee, What's the word I'm thinking of, can you see?

Fluorescent sun, paper seas, chairs that roll but never leave.

Put the needle in me. Hear me. Feel me. Now, move!

I’m tart and I’m sweet; I make a good treat, so long as I’m not on my own. Some states have laws with me in their name; some states say the buyer’s to blame. What citrus treat do I speak that will put scurvy back in its place?

I circle your wrist in silver or thread, With charms that jingle or gems that spread. A fashionable loop that you proudly display, Clasped in place so I won’t slip away.