Ode to My Handmixer

Twas a sad day indeed,

the day my Handmixer died.

Whirring on low it started to bleed.

I watched the beater jerk; I almost cried.

First, the left side quit

Then the right followed suit.

It choked and sputtered bit by bit,

Until it died altogether. I cried, "Oh shoot!"

I held you for five years.

I knew you, and you knew me.

We've had cheers and we've had tears.

I could always count on you as my devotee.

You have done much.

You creamed, and you mixed.

You were firm but soft to the touch.

You could sift, beat, puree but not be fixed.

I rolled up your cord;

I solemnly threw you away.

If I got married, I'd get a reward,

But a Kitchen Aid isn't worth a wedding day.