I make your cheeks burn, though no fire is near. A silent recoil, a visceral fear. A cultural faux pas, held ever so dear.

I set boundaries. I surround the dearly departed. I'm white on black or green. I'm sometimes seen on the sidewalk, in various colors. People use me to secure a hold on equipment.

Billy Joel and Elton John, or the guys who provided the music in western bars

With hand and flute a melody heard. Say duh with this you’ll bear the word. To mime a time, you can look absurd. On this, this fish or cake may burn.

Thin blonde hair that covers us all, peaches take more than their fair share.