Answer:
I am the key that is the hardest to turn
In all the world none can compare I am a tiny weaver my deadly cloth so silky and fair.
I am all around you but you cannot see me. I have no throat but you can hear me. Valued during summer but despised in the winter.
I have a name written on me, but it isnβt my name. Men plant me, but I never grow. They look at me and see their future, rotting in my bloom.
I have memories, but none of my own. Whatever's on my inside is what is shown. If I'm ever different, it's because you changed me. I feel like a decoration, here for you to arrange me. What am I?
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?