All things to rust succumb,

As time's wheel turns and spins,

This ruthless sculptor, unkind,

Wears them down with its grind.

Rust's quiet touch appears,

Crowning surfaces with its sears.

Yet in this decay, a grace,

Beauty found in its embrace.

Passion, strength, and stories told,

In silent rest, their tales unfold.

Engraved in rust, their history,

A heart that will not fade away.