Answer:
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
Big as a biscuit, deep as a cup, but even a river canβt fill it up. What is it?
You should keep it as straight as can be, yet very few do. Most of the time it's slightly bent or curved. Your sadness usually causes it to bend further, but donβt bend it for too long or it may never be able to fully straighten out again. What is it?
They're up near the sky, on something very tall. Sometimes they die, only then do they fall.
My life can be measured in hours, I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick. Fat, I am slow. Wind is my foe.
I always have to work with something in my eye. What am I?