Why was I so thrashed into that mass of wet leaves?
When I heard the snap, it was too late.
All Master could do was frown, and spout out some four letter things.
Oh, the wondrous work I could have done, for I was a super rake.
Leaves of all hues and shapes, I could easily overtake.
What good am I now? Only a shadow of my former self.
Is this my end? Am I now to be undone?
Only next fall will reveal the life I am to know.
The leaves will float and careen, slowly to the ground.
Will I be there? Or will I be marooned in a lost and found?
Only time will tell, mend me, make me well...
So when that arctic beast blows, and the leaves are all afoot.
You'll reach on that shed wall where it is me you will have put.
This, I hope, for your sake, so your ears never partake of the Lament of a Broken Rake.