They wait in patience.
They glance at you with the stare, eyeing it dreadfully.
They hover around for it to be finished of its contents.
At the first sign of 'death', they swoop in and carry it off.
They are your can-collectors.
Everywhere, anywhere, their presence can be felt.
Be it hovering around you.
Be it rummaging the rubbish bin which you have threw your can into.
Some run through the bin like a professional, armed with gloves or clamps.
You can hear from in the dead silence of the night,
the ruckle of the cans
They stomp it flat
*Cramp! Cramp! Cramp*
the sound of aluminium cans.
Elderly folk, "Auntie" folk
Some even with kids in tow
They are often seen
Some respond with a gleam,
when you give them their precious tins
putting one more into their bags
clinking
They are your neighbourhood can collectors
Never were there such numbers
raise up and fast to the
to the greening scene
They play an important role
although they were never told
they are helping with the green and clean
They are just human beings.
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