In vaults of silver and halls of gold,
A tale of wealth, both young and old.
Paper promises, coins that gleam,
In the dance of commerce, a grand theme.
Oh, currency, a fleeting sprite,
Whispers of power in the silent night.
In pockets deep or bank vaults high,
Your presence shapes the earth and sky.
From humble penny to grandest bill,
A story unfolds, a world to fill.
Barter's echo, now silenced, hushed,
As transactions in bills are briskly rushed.
Yet, in your grasp, a double-edged sword,
A siren's call, an unwavering lord.
For some, you're a bounteous friend,
For others, a journey that knows no end.
In markets bustling with fervent trade,
You're the puppeteer, the grand charade.
A symbol of dreams, a measure of might,
In your pursuit, passions take flight.
In vaulted towers and on crowded streets,
Your rustling whispers, the pulse that beats.
In the hands of dreamers, you inspire,
In the hearts of many, you kindle fire.
But heed this caution, oh currency grand,
For in your grasp, the soul may stand.
True wealth is more than notes and gold,
It's kindness shared and stories told.
So dance, oh money, in pockets deep,
A symphony of exchange, secrets to keep.
But let us not forget, in the chase of gold,
The treasures of the heart, forever untold.