Coffee Cans

The mantel was lined with old coffee cans.
No consistency.
Folgers, Maxwell House, and Hills Bros.
It depended on what had been on special at the time.
Their lids, all on tight.
Hands full of fresh lilac surrounded them.
Laying in front and stuffed between.
At the end of the line was a smaller can.
It held the image of a peanut in a top hat.
This was surrounded by sweet pea and baby's breath.
Another of the cans, a red Folgers,
had a single rose atop it's lid.
Slightly wilted.
The edges of the petals starting to blacken.
The house was immaculate.
Hardwood floors free of rugs or clutter. 
Lace on the arms of the over stuffed chairs.
An afghan across the back of the couch.
From the kitchen came the smell of a fresh brewed pot.
A half full canister sitting on the counter.
Now plastic.
Plastic.
Would hardly fit in when the time comes.