Umbrella Regret

In the rain, I was out and about.
It was windy, of that there’s no doubt.
Though I put up a fight,
My resistance was slight;
My protection got turned inside out.

I hurried home, drippingly wet
And filled with umbrella regret.
It was not a good sign
That this old friend of mine
Looked as bad as umbrellas can get.

With its spokes bent and twisted in two,
I knew there was naught I could do
Except bid it farewell -
Kind of sad, you can tell –
‘Til a new one will make its debut.