You gave us music, you gave us joy;
A friend - not merely a techno-toy.
"iPink" we called you - so small and so sleek,
Seen together, we were ultra-chic.
We danced to a beat, soothed baby to sleep;
Now mangled, you lie in a twisted heap.
So many regrets, opportunities lost...
When I stepped on that treadmill, I knew not the cost.
I began to walk briskly, as you played your last song -
"Bodyrock" by Moby - I trotted along.
I picked up the pace, reached to set the incline,
Then it happened: I accidentally pulled on your line.
Oh! The terror I felt, as I watched you fall down,
My heart sank, I cried out, as if I might drown!
The belt pulled you under, you were gone in a flash
To those powerful rollers, which would fold, scrape, and smash!
I hit the stop button, my mind filled with dread,
I desperately searched for you under the tread.
The gym flies came running and gathered around,
They watched as I lifted you up off the ground.
"Perhaps they can fix it," they hopefully said,
"It isn't so bad." But I just shook my head.
Your poor face, bent and cracked, had internally bled;
I had to accept that my iPod was dead.