She has a sleek metallic black finish
With curved steel alloy
Hugging the topography of her
Inner workings.
Steam valves whistle
As her pistons pump power
From her rolling cogs and gears.
The well lubricated joints allow her
To move
With but a whisper of a sound.
She's the most important piece of machinery here.
She needs no fuel but
Produces endless energy.
A perpetual motion machine.
Her lights and actuators spin in
hypnotic grace.
She's fragile.
The wrong turn of a dial,
The throw of a wrong switch,
Or a misread gauge
Could put the calibration off and
She doesn't work at all.
Screeching grinds and the
Piercing pitches
Of metal scraping metal.
She cries for repair.
Sometimes years of work
Will have to be put into getting her right again.
With the right tools
And the right person working on her though
She hums
Like your favorite song
On your best day.