In a realm of gears and cogs that whir,
A tale of upkeep, I shall now infer.
A maintenance of sorts, both grand and small,
Where harmony reigns, we heed the call.

With tools in hand, the artisans stride,
To mend the clockwork, they take pride.
Each cog entwined, a symphony they weave,
Preserving the balance, they never deceive.

From towering clocks to humble machines,
Their diligent touch keeps the world's routines.
Through days and nights, their labor flows,
As harmony endures and life bestows.

So let us cherish these hands so skilled,
Whose care and love keep all things fulfilled.
A maintenance of sorts, a humble art,
In this mechanized realm, they play their part.



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