Ode to the metronome

Oh poor little metronome.
I'm so sorry I'm a klutz.
I scotch taped you so carefully and lovingly last year when you fell and lost some plastic.
...then I scotch taped you so delicately again when you gracelessly flew from my locker.
And it was good, for you were worn and used and looked slightly battered from the nine years I practiced with you, but you still worked so well. You made me proud, how you never stopped giving me a beat no matter how much I detested it. You were with me every time I practiced for almost a decade, even when you were bruised and battered from my carelessness.
I was going to show you off in three years' time when I have sectionals to run. I was going to pull you out and watch my student's reactions as they saw such a old, taped metronome. I was even going to pull the whole "look! It's older than you!" as I happily flipped the on switch and watched them roll their eyes while I giggled.
But now...oh, dear metronome...as I pulled you from my locker, you jumped from my hands and found the floor one time too many. You flew apart and jiggled your inards and despite the fact that I spent five minutes trying to make you whole one last time, it was too much. You were broken beyond repair. The on switch no longer works, and it makes me very, very sad dear old friend. I miss you so, and while a replacement is on its way, I will never love it as much as I loved you.
The scotch tape gave you more character than any shiny new thing is near capable of producing. It made me look like a true music geek...because instead of being able to buy things that are shiny and new, we must make do with what we have for most true music geeks are music majors and, thus, are very much broke.
I miss you so much, dear metronome!
*memorial service dates to come*