Time passing by... Don't kick me just yet! So much to do: you might keep a list, for there's so little time!

I have no hands, yet I can tie. I help things climb, swing, or fly. I may be twisted, braided, or spun, But pull too hard, and I come undone. What am I?

Butterflies lift me through the sky, Books can help me soar twice as high. Friends and wonders fill each page. What colorful journey could I be?

The books don’t mind the chatter, but readers often do. When voices wander just too far, someone will whisper this to you.

I am named for a fruit but am not found on vines. A blend of five bark-born and seed-shattered minds. I capture the autumn though I am not a tree, and millions will queue for a latte of me.