Thursday, November 1, 2012


By Emily Emmert, on Oct. 4, 2012, at the age of 14

It’s raining on me,
And I’m soaked to the bone
And all I’ve got to keep me dry
Is my umbrella

It’s full of tiny holes
And part of it is broken
Its been around forever
That umbrella

It belonged to my grandfather
and my mother, both before me
Now it’s mine to have and use
An Umbrella

It was sitting in a corner
Collecting dust and rust
Until I took to using it 
The raggedy umbrella

It used to be a pretty, dark blue
With a real wooden handle
But both have mostly worn away
From all who’ve used the umbrella

Its been to picnics and pitch-ins
And rainy dinner dates
But now it just takes me to school and back
Just me, and my umbrella

But the reason that I’m soaking
Is because it will not open
It’s finally, fully broken
My wonderful umbrella

But now, I’ve got a new one
With purple polka-dots
And some day I’ll give it to my children
This umbrella

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