Umbrella

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