Black tin can

There at the back of the overflowing busy shop, 
in the top shelf far too high, seldom ransacked,
stood a long black tin can all alone without warp,
I knew not what it was or what beauty it packed;

it stood alone as other goods were sold and brought,
dust gathered on its body, the poor can left untouched,
each day I went I prayed silently that the can be bought,
found a warm home where it was put to use as beseeched;

 but I found it standing deathly still begging for attention,
I wondered why isolated and why created, for what use,
what dreams it held, were they lofty and above its station,
why stuck thus in a limbo and not discarded to refuse;

he weeped at me and asked me without words to take him home,
h I both of a kind, all alone yet without freedom to roam.  

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