Zenith Radio

I don't know how it came to this.

I had a radio - a Zenith. For as long as i had it,
It was held together by electrical tape
And sounded tinny
And I was sure it would give out for good soon.
And I felt that way for years.

It did falter often. Sometimes no sound,
Sometimes the wrong sound,
And always right when I really wanted to hear
What it was playing.
I'd get frustrated.
I'd throw it away.

I'd get a different radio - there's always one around -
And listen to it. The clear sounds
And the sleek look
And the reliability I thought was there
Were great
But I wasn't used to them.

I'd race to the trash can and retrieve the Zenith
I felt honestly sorry
It did its best and the fault was mine -
Who was I to judge?
And we had seen so much together,
And I knew how to fix this radio.

This played out dozens of times. I should have known
After the first time I went back
That the radio was part of who I was
No matter what.
But I kept throwing it away in frustration
And the garbage man came early today.