Oh iPod! My iPod! Your melodies have ceased.
Shattered upon my garaged floor, your parts cannot be pieced.
I scream, I shout, my mother runs out, our hearts in disarray.
A crowd grows, as the ambulance slows, to take my iPod away.

O Heart! Heart! Heart!
Needn’t you mourn that iPod dead,
But Travel more to the Apple store
And get a new one instead.

O but iPod! My iPod! Restore and tune please play,
Restore—for you a box has come—to refurbish and sell on eBay.
On you will be a price tag, less than to me you’re worth,
For you few bids will be placed, because iPods are of no dearth.

Here iPod, dear Companion,
Your ear-buds beneath your head,
‘Tis so surreal that my everyday sidekick
Has fallen cold and dead.

My iPod does not answer; his screen is blank and grey.
The wheel it does not click, and there is nothing on the display.
The EMT’s have done their best, to try electric shock
But the defribulator has been no use; it’s time to stop the clock.

So off it goes, away in a box
And I with mournful tread,
Will walk the floor in soiled socks
Where my iPod fell, shattered and dead.