Robert Melliard - Umbrellas

They come in all strengths and sizes;
in high winds only the fittest survive.

Everyone I know loses them frequently
so where do lost umbrellas go?
Someone must have hundreds of them.

Their colours range from dull to blinding -
saying something about their owners?
My father was a commuter
and his umbrella was black.

Robert Melliard

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/umbrellas/