In the quiet hum of silver coins, a tale begins to weave,
Of dreams chased on golden wings, and promises to believe.
The shine of wealth, a siren’s call, whispers softly in the night,
Luring hearts with gleaming lights, in the promise of delight.

Yet in the shadows of desire, where ambitions silently creep,
Lies the question of the soul, in treasures we wish to keep.
For every coin that glitters bright, a shadow lingers near,
A dance of joy, a dance of fear, intertwined throughout the year.

O wealth, thou art a fickle friend, with secrets deeply sown,
In dreams you build, in dreams you bend, a kingdom all your own.
But in the quiet moments, when the world is still and true,
We find the worth of simple things, not bought, but born anew.

So let the coins sing softly, a melody of hope and grace,
For in the heart of man lies wealth, no currency can replace.
In love and kindness freely given, in laughter and in tears,
True riches lie, forever bound, beyond the grasp of years.