Answer:
Sometimes I am loud. And viewed with distaste. Poke out my 'eye', then I'm on the front of your face.
What has a bell but isn't a church. Is full of air but is not a balloon?
What is bought by the yard by is worn by the foot?
We are five little objects of an everyday sort. You will find us all in a tennis court.
Always wax, yet always wane: I melt, succumbed to the flame. Lighting darkness, with fate unblest, I soon devolve to shapeless mess.
Keep doing me to avoid lens dryness