a can of soup

there is one can
of soup
in your cupboard
that you may have
had for ten
years or more.
chicken noodle.
there is a picture
on the label
with the steam coming
off the spoon, chunks
of chicken
swimming
in broth,
littered with carrots
and what not.
sometimes you'll
pull the can out,
looking for
something else
and stare at it,
spinning it
around to see
if there might be
an expiration
date on it. you
have no memory
of when or why
you bought it. maybe
you had a cold
one day, or a sore
throat and thought
that it might help.
that can of soup
has been a good
friend throughout
the years,
rain and shine,
pain and joy,
a decade of being
together. always there
when you open
the cupboard, who
or what else can
that be said
about in your life.
no one comes to mind.
you almost hate
to open it
even if you were
starving,
ending
this warm and fuzzy
relationship.
you'll keep it where
it is. safe
and sound
behind the orange
uncle ben's quick
rice box.