Answer:
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky. Atop a tender strand, rising from the land, until killed by maiden's hand. Perhaps a token of love, perhaps to say goodbye.
What stays on the ground but never gets dirty?
Runs smoother than any rhyme, loves to fall but cannot climb.
Stealthy as a shadow in the dead of night, cunning but affectionate if given a bite. Never owned but often loved. At my sport considered cruel, but that's because you never know me at all.
Iron roof, glass walls, burns and burns and never falls.
You use it between your head and your toes, the more it works the thinner it grows.