Answer:
People need me yet they give me away every day.
The sun bakes me, the hand breaks me, the foot treads on me, and the mouth tastes me. What am I?
I go through a door but never go in, and never come out. What am I?
I am the black child of a white father a wingless bird flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me even though there is no cause for grief and at once on my birth I am dissolved into air.
When young I am sweet in the sun. When middle-aged I make you gay. When old I am valued more than ever.
I flow from the Homer’s mouth when he sees doughnuts.