I'm some riddles, I'm used to describe eyelids. In other riddles, it's hair, or the end of your life. But actually, I have something to do with windows.

A slender thread of metallic grace, Connecting here and there with a trace, In the old days, it sang with a whispering hum, Carrying voices and electricity where they thrum.

I clarify for some, confuse for most, but I mostly sound like you lost your container.

In a shell of tan, a twin within, delight in crunch for all to munch. Often crushed to smooth or chunky delight, it spreads joy every bite.

Water snake? Lawn saver? Or portable garden fountain?