Cycles of Clean
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A filthy car rolls forth to seek its bath,
While washers march with tools and knowing smile;
Their practiced hands trace out a skillful path,
To tend each inch with dedication's style.
With forceful streams they drench the metal wet,
As stubborn grime dissolves beneath their spray;
Each tire and rim they scour—none forget—
Till every trace of road dust fades away.
Then fragrant shampoo cascades down the whole,
As practiced cloths caress the surface clean;
Fresh waters pure in rushing torrents roll,
Till every panel catches sunlight's sheen.
The car departs, now lustrous, clean and bright,
While next in line advances into sight.
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Copyright © I.A. Ryd | Year Posted 2024
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