Answer:
My voice is tender, my waist is slender and I'm often invited to play. Yet wherever I go, I must take my bow or else I have nothing to say.
Golden treasure I contain, Guarded by hundreds and thousands. Stored in a labyrinth where no man walks, Yet men come often to seize my gold. By smoke I am overcome and robbed, then left to build my treasure anew
What surrounds the world, yet dwells within a thimble?
A red drum which sounds without being touched, and grows silent, when it is touched.
Until I am measured I am not known, Yet how you miss me when I have flown.
You use it between your head and your toes, the more it works the thinner it grows.