Answer:
How can you burn an apple, blueberry, rose and pumpkin without leaving any ashes but retaining the smell of it?
Glittering points that downward thrust. Sparkling spears that never rust.
Reaching stiffly for the sky, I bare my fingers when its cold. In warmth I wear an emerald glove and in between I dress in gold.
Always wax, yet always wane: I melt, succumbed to the flame. Lighting darkness, with fate unblest, I soon devolve to shapeless mess.
We are five little objects of an everyday sort, You will find us all in a tennis court.
I can only be played on a windy day