I think I’ve lost them. Glass orbs for play. Metamorphic rock.

I’m both a mess to be in, and a tangy snack to be eaten.

A certain piggy went to one, though that is all we know. Some places still carry the name, but more often it is a farmer's thing. All in all, I am a way to convene and trade with ease.

An idiom says, I'm hard to see, When one's too focused, On parts of me

I'm a metal mate, for a belt's long ride, Keeping things tight, with a secure stride, I fasten and hold, with a satisfying click, A small but mighty part, of a daily trick,