Answer:
When young, I am sweet in the sun. When middle-aged, I make you gay. When old, I am valued more than ever.
They can float and tickle, but their sound is rarely heard unless you're a pillow or bird. What are they?
What goes up but never comes down?
This is in a realm of true and in a realm false, but you experience me as you turn and toss.
It is a part of us, and then replaced. It escapes out bodies, to a better place. The world becomes its sizeable home. Its passions unrestraint, the planet it roams.
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?