After a word, a direction you go toward, Waiting for an attack, if you have a button-tipped sword, Part of a hospital, sometimes one on each floor, A term for a child, or anyone you're a guardian for

You use me to get high, but also to come back down.

Skaters can glide Wesley Snipes can Marvel Billy Bob can Sling Lives in a sheath, pulled out with a glide.

Fade to black: me. A trap: me, mostly when stamped with ACME. Used to fold in, your form, lay it on me and smack me. But only when hot, Blade face to face, you attack me.

Though I may have a leaf or two And I may be made of wood, I am not a tree that grew. I'm where you set your food.