I felt the scrape, that bittersweet sting,

A careless touch on fragile wings.

A mark left where none should be,

Steel bruised by a memory.

Scratch on steel, a story in flight,

A broken wing caught in the light.

I’ll pay what it takes, hand it to those

Who’ll make it shine, like a butterfly shows.

Pulled into the Mercedes light,

A butterfly drifted through the night.

I said, “Make it like it was before,”

Knowing the cost, but wanting more.

Shop lights traced that wounded line,

Their hands felt where it lost its shine.

They nodded slow, said, “It’ll come back,

Erase the scar, and smooth the track.”

With careful work, they smoothed each line,

Layer on layer, a silver shine.

Like mending wings that once were torn,

They brushed and buffed, the car reborn.

Scratch on steel, a story in flight,

A broken wing caught in the light.

I’ll pay what it takes, hand it to those

Who’ll make it shine, like a butterfly shows.

Now it gleams, like never before,

Butterfly wings touch it no more.

In the Mercedes light, past erased,

Steel reborn, with grace replaced.