In your line of sight but remain unseen, I can be a blade-like bridge that is sharp and clean, Or roundly sweet and cute as a button I am a filter and a detector of things delectable or rotten.

I stand over you without any feet. Sometime you have more than one, attic or not. From pre-thatched to whatever modern technology there is, I ensure you sleep dry.

Once plucked by skin, now taken by steel-same white prize, different will. I wipe and probe where senses hide, a narrow place just inside. Not a brand, but many twins-two soft ends where one thin spine begins.

In a circle, I am the divide, A part of the whole, where secrets reside. On a board, I'm a cut of delight, In a pie, I'm a sharer's delight.

Stir the pot, Toss the bones. Wash out, Then go home.