Answer:
My life is often a volume of grief, your help is needed to turn a new leaf. Stiff is my spine and my body is pale. But I'm always ready to tell a tale.
This thing runs but cannot walk, sometimes sings but never talks. Lacks arms, has handsΝΎ lacks a head but has a face.
You can tumble in it, roll in it, burn it, animal eat it. Used to cover floors, still used beyond stall doors. Freshens whatever it is placed on. Absorbs whatever is poured into it.
A beacon from home to guide your way. It can be a lifesaver on a stormy day. What is it?
What force and strength cannot get through. I, with a gentle touch, can do. Many in the street would stand. Were I not a friend at hand.
If lightning strikes an orchestra who is the one most likely to get hit?