In the quiet hum of ledgers lined,
Where figures dance, both bold and fine,
Accountants weave their silent art,
Balancing worlds with every part.

The ledger’s tale, a whispered song,
Of credits, debits, right and wrong,
A symphony of numbers, pure,
A dance of math, precise, secure.

Each entry’s mark, a careful note,
In journals where the fractions float,
With every sheet, a story told,
Of profits gained and fortunes sold.

Beneath the light of midnight’s glow,
Accountants toil, row by row,
To balance dreams with steadfast might,
In columns clear, both day and night.