Once sugar, white and cold, transformed by heat to a river of gold.

Upon my back, you safely glide, Walking paths with every stride. Though I wear out, I never tire, Step inside, I'm your foot's squire.

Hidden deep within sections of text, the answer waits. What word is hidden?

I have something and you reeeeeeeeally want it. I take two letters to say, but four to spell. You won't be satisfied until you have what I have, but in truth, the feeling won't quit It's a feeling that you'll likely never quell

I clothes every day, more so in frigid weather. I hang in display, known to ride a bag of leather. I get caught in the fray, Better get mad or clever. Last three letters away: done to splay or bring together.