I am the gift you give to make a stranger’s day. Yet the more you give, the richer you stay. I can be a coin, a coat, or your blood. Join me, and turn trickles of kindness into a powerful flood.

I have a handle but no door, I hold your secrets, and much more. I slide out smoothly, then push within, A hidden space where treasures begin. What am I?

I have delicate green leaves and a name you might know, But when I turn into seeds, I have a different way to go. To some, I am citrusy, fresh, and bright, To others, a soapy taste is all I invite.

I shade your room or I’m the loss of sight, the same word works for both if used just right.

Caesar complained to Brutus about this pointy thing