I follow the moon, or does it follow me? A name for the motions of the sea Retreat and return by the time you've dried I help form the waves that surfers ride

I may pour your drink, throw heat from the mound, or lure unwary insects where green traps are found.

Woven tales of color and thread, what we wear, where we dream, a canvas for all stories, a shelter and a scheme.

I start out hard and sweet to taste, But chew me up, there is no haste. Blow me up with a steady breath, I stretch and grow, defying death. Till something up in the end .....

I may live under the sea, but me wearing pants is dumb. My partner in crime attacks grime.