iPod

The glossy metallic blue covers the backing, protecting it from any harm.
Turning over, the glaring white contrasts greatly with the dormant black screen.
Small enough to fit in your pocket, large enough to be in your hand,
A strap, blue like the reflective sky, winds from it to your hand, preventing it from ever leaving.

In your hands, the smooth round edges, feather light,
Beautifully new at first,
Presently a little scratched and used,
However that is what makes it unique and mine.

It constantly is with me, through thick and thin, my imaginary best friend.
As a listen to its soothing voice and all the secrets it tells me,
It has never separated from me from the time I bought it - silently waiting to be chosen,
The last one standing, with pride and honour.

If it gets shattered, I would be too, inside.
If it gets lost, I would feel the loss without it.
It is a reflection of me, my best friend who will stand by me.
It will neither judge nor criticize.

It is my iPod.