Beneath gloves of cerulean blue,
A gentle hand, with purpose true.

Another sprays a clear, fresh mist,
On surfaces to be dismissed
Of lingering dust, of unseen trace,
Preparing calm for an open space.

No label tells of what’s inside,

Just cleansing intent, with nothing to hide.
A paper towel, soft and white,
Absorbs the task, makes all things bright.

In silent work, a peace is found,
As purity spreads all around.