When Phoebus slow doth dip his golden crown, The sky's canvas blushes in hues of renown. Day's final breath, ere night takes her throne, A radiant farewell, where dreams are sown.

I guard the fields with a prickly stare, Purple crowns upon my hair. Ignored by hands, yet bold and brave, I flourish where the wild things wave. Touch me wrong and you’ll soon see- What thorny symbol could I be? Want it harder, shorter, or with a mythicalhsymbolic twist?

I'm like something bigger, but not fully real. Fun for small people is my appeal. Toys and small furniture, friends may appear. My name with a space is the game they play here.

I am strung and light, held firm in hand, I strike or swing at your sporty command. I can smash a ball or stir a crowd, with every clash, I make a sound.

In your teeth or your backyard, Without me barbecuing's quite hard. I'm also slang for interrogate, But mostly I cook the food on your plate.