The snapon screwdriver is gone.

Never entrusted to my care,

but bequeathed by misadventure.

Green plastic handle, ratchet drive,

both Philips and fat bits inside.

A privilege I never earned

to take this shaft and make it turn.

Left to find it my own device,

I used it with such avarice,

rounded the bits and crossed the thread,

levered open the paint pots' lids.

Every job it did felt special;

it made a fantastic chisel.

Then one busy DIY day

I didn't put my friend away.

I tumbled the toolbox contents

checked my shed in a state of torment.

Now, I must accept its absence

as it lives its own senescence.

First it was yours, then it was mine,

by default rather than by design.

Your strength, my weakness caused its loss

twice worked over for added pathos.