Answer:
I am always hungry, I must always be fed. The finger I lick will soon turn red.
You eat something you neither plant nor plow. It is the son of water, but if water touches it, it dies.
Do you know what you can hold without ever touching it?
What can't you see, hear or feel, until its too late. What shadows love, and shopkeepers hate?
Gold in a leather bag, swinging on a tree, money after honey in its time. Ills of a scurvy crew cured by the sea, reason in its season but no rhyme.
Iām grown from darkness but shine with a pale light. Very round I am and always a lady's delight.