In this garage the echoes of engines long fixed now persist,
A mechanic stands, hands adorned and grease-kissed,
Worn overalls, a lifetime spent deep in gears,
Retiring proud, as the end nears.

Tools laid down, a symphony of clinks,
Wrenches and ratchets, each memory links.
A life in oil, for an engine’s embrace,
Now stepping back, leaving a well-earned trace.

The workshop’s anthem, the hum of machines,
A soundtrack that fades as the retiree dreams.
A toolbox closed, a chapter complete,
In the quiet, the heartbeat of a bittersweet retreat.

No more the squeels of a stubborn car,
No more the scent of oil, near and far.
Retirement dawns, a horizon unknown,
Beyond the spanners, what seeds are sown?

A proud mechanic, with tales to tell,
Of engines revving, and parts that fell.
Yet, in the silence, a canvas unfolds,
A new chapter yet to be written, let the story talk mold.