I runneth over, Golden under a rising sun. Two lovers on a raft, perhaps? My defenses come undone.

You whack my head all the time and I never complain. Yet I hit your thumb once and you get angry?

Domestically speaking, Typically feather. For western law, Sometimes leather.

I wear a crown but rule no land, Born of water, yet in fire I stand. I start as an emerald, then bleed into gold, Or turn to a ruby if left to grow old. I have a silent guide but a screaming bite, I can hide in a popper or ignite a cold night.

I can be worn, but I’m not clothing. Sometimes, I get you from one place to another directly. Other times, you’ll meander and mosey.