My grandpa is an old can of beans,
A hard tin cylinder molded with rust,
Its colorful logo dimmed with time
Laying on the highest shelf.
Some with heart and soul notice that can of beans while strolling by;
Others only take a glance,
But a few take a closer look
Admiring its rough edges and texture,
Each dent telling a story,
Some too outrageous to be believed,
Others of romance, excitement, dreams and desires.
A few tears dropping
But all of life and its values.
Then taking it inside the listener places the can back and
Continues on with their life.
Alone the can laid for many years, for departure stole away the one he loved.
Until one day someone grabbed it off the cabinet,
Put it in their pocket, placed it on their heart,
Took it on a new adventure,
And most importantly it showed the can of beans how to live again.
