I’m the top of a shaft A bit of shared wisdom Or a little sumthin sumthin you leave for good service

I come at the end, small but discrete, In books or your belly, I’m a supplemental treat. A vestige of old, once thought obsolete, or extra material that makes texts complete.

I have one head, one foot, and for legs. In other contexts, I can be found be a river or in a garden. What am I?

A chill down your spine, visions invade your thoughts, you saw it all so clearly but how? Do you say something or wait since it hasn't happened yet.

Treasure is on the tip of my tongue, but if you're like me, you'll never tell