It's been around for millions of years, but is never more than a month old. What is it?
I'm white, I'm round, but not always around. Sometimes you see me, sometimes you don't.
Soft and fragile is my skin, I get my growth in mud. I’m dangerous as much as pretty, for if not careful, I draw blood.
What is it which builds things up? Lays mountains low? Dries up lakes, and makes things grow? Cares not a whim about your passing? And is like few other things, because it is everlasting?
There are two meanings to me. With one I may need to be broken, with the other I hold on. My favorite characteristic is my charming dimple.
Why are foot injuries so serious?