I once hugged the heart of a fragrant bloom, softly I drift on the gentle plume. I fall to the ground when my time is done, bright and kissed by the golden sun.

I’m the first three of five, when you do something in excess. I sound like a place you’ve gone, in the past nonetheless. If trash is around and it needs a place, I’ll take it happily. In a somewhat different form I’m a vessel to store your items, stack me on top of me.

Don't bother me, I'll bother you! With claws and fur I'll quarrel. The first half of me sounds like the mood I'm in, though I'm not really amoral. My second half: Remove the e, I'm simply just a growl. I can be quite the honey, then undaunted I will prowl.

I begin by tricking you into thinking I've to do with canes or shoots, but the way I end will leave you

I live just above and just below the surface of the ocean or sea. Add ER to my end and I become nineteen-fifty’s slang for the God-given herb.