An action I am, but also a noun. Use arms and legs to get around. Not on the ground but up and down. See limb exerted, and I can be found.

I travel in circles without going anywhere. My riders choose animals that never breathe or tire. Music and lights mark each slow rotation. Children step off where they began, Convinced they’ve gone somewhere. What am I?

A metal toothy grin that slides, Binds two worlds on either side. With a gentle pull or yank, Keeps your treasures sealed and ranked.

Gold, silver, and hydrogen What you are in if your parent says you must play outside or your boss says you must come to work in bad weather What you get if you add water to a band that formed in the late sixties

I am a memory made of light, captured once, then held tight. What am I?