Answer:
My first is high my second damp my whole a tie a writer's cramp.
Glittering points that downward thrust. Sparkling spears that never rust.
I am in truth a yellow fork from tables in the sky by inadvertent fingers dropped the awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed and never quite concealed the apparatus of the dark to ignorance revealed.
I'm found in socks, scarves and mittens. I'm found in the paws of playful kittens. What am I?
What bone has a sense of humor?
I am rarely touched but often held. If you are smart you'll use me well. What am I?