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.