Among the warehouse shelves, a maze he braves,
The forklift glides quietly, like a traveler saves,
His steel arms bear the weight of the day,
A silent hero, building in his own way.
In morning's dark, while the sun still dreams,
He works on, with steadfast beams,
Without complaints, without a sound,
With humble strength, he moves around.
Though praise and laughter he never hears,
His heart beats with the rhythm of his gears.
