Some people strain me from their OJ drink, yet without me many books would never see ink.

Glorious trees, sometimes with a weeping sounding name, that stand tall and proud, providing lots of shade.

I carry your baggage, but I don't reply. Children say 'Again!' and the parents sigh.

Though I possess a single eye, I neither wink nor look nearby. Instead I help with cloth and thread, mending tears where they have spread.

I only speak when I’m broken, but once I speak, I can never be whole again.