Saturday sun wakes up the street,
Engines hum, wheels seek retreat.
Buckets brimming, hoses dance,
A chore? Maybe — but here’s our chance.

Foam spills like clouds across the hood,
The soap sings dreams of gleaming good.
Mirrors gleam, tires shine,
A spa day for the weekday grind.

Neighbors chat through misty spray,
Kids chase bubbles down the way.
Music thumping from a passing ride,
Weekends wash the stress aside.

Underneath each swirling stream,
Is something more than wax and gleam.
It’s joy found in simple scenes,
And love poured between the machines

Chrome reflects the morning blaze,
In rhythmic sweeps, we find our daze.
Swirls of soap, slow and grand,
Each swipe a note from nature’s band.

Dust erased from weekday trails,
Stories told in streaky veils.
From muddy roads to city lanes,
We rinse away the week’s remains.

Sunlight dries the final coat,
Like nature signing every note.
Clean and proud, the cars now gleam,
As if they’ve chased a fresh new dream.

 © JMS 2025