TomatoSoup
In the quiet of the kitchen, where the light falls soft and warm, there lay a can, once full of hope, now victim to harm. Its contents spread across the floor, a scarlet sea unfurled, a vibrant splash of tomato soup, in this mundane world.
Oh, can of soup, your promise was so hearty and so bold, to warm the hearts and fill the souls, your story to be told.
But fate had other plans, as you slipped from grasp so tight, and painted the tiles in hues of red, under the fluorescent light.
The clatter echoed, a silent gasp, as time itself then froze, a masterpiece of accident, a moment nature chose. With every drip and dribble, a tale was left behind, of meals unmade, of dreams delayed, of moments intertwined.
We mourn the loss of what could've been, a feast for senses keen, but in this spill, a lesson found, in every shimmering sheen.
Life, like soup, can spill and spread in patterns unforeseen, embrace the chaos, find the beauty, in every scene.
So here's to you, dear can of soup, your journey abrupt and brief, you've touched our hearts, you've made your mark, in splendor and in grief.
-AI