quite far back on the shelf,
receding from your line of view.
The stock on top is slow to clear,
when middle shelves are not as dear
and easier to get at
from the aisle-way here.
So by the time a hand reached up
and swiped it off the shelf,
the pickles were a little past
the sell-by date,
and not worth the price per weight -
the consumer put it back instead.
The little pickle jar, it had hoped
that that would be the journey home.
It never knew it had gone past
the time when you could use it last.
Instead it was left on its own,
uncertainty its only company.
Where will it go? Will it be thrown?
You may not care, you'll never know -
if it poisons someone else
that's their loss to make:
we only learn from past mistakes.
The little pickle jar is after all
nothing more than condiment
gone uselessly awry.
The little tuna can beside
ReplyDeletesaw what went on with the pickle jar.
As helpless a tuna can can be,
He cheered-up the pickle jar.
"As useless one might think you are,
I certainly do not.
You have kept me company,
As lonely these days can be."
"Whenever I felt down and low
With these fishes in my belly.
I saw how tall, strong and bold,
you stood with all those veggies."
"At least people could see into you,
And know what you're about.
While I am here as thick as I am,
With no one's understanding."
"So cheer-up little pickle jar,
For at least we expire together.
Who cares what the future holds,
As long as we're together."