The Report

The Report A page of numbers, neatly drawn,

A canvas blank at break of dawn.

The ink begins its quiet flow,

As facts and figures start to grow.

A report is born from void to light,

In columns neat, both black and white.

It starts with data, raw and pure,

Then finds its form, its shape, its cure.

A tale is told in measured lines,

Of growth, of losses, slow declines.

Each stat, each graph, a whispered clue,

A story hidden from our view.

It speaks of progress, slow or fast,

Of trends that change, of shadows cast.

A quiet mirror held to time,

Reflecting both the peak and climb.

Each figure adds a piece, a part,

To paint the picture from the start.

It tells of battles won and lost,

Of gains, of risks, and what they cost.

In every report, there’s something more,

A pulse that beats, a silent roar.

It shows what worked, what didn’t fare,

What’s gained, and what’s beyond repair.

For within its lines, the future lies,

In shaded bars and dotted skies.

A forecast wrapped in silent care,

A guide to choices laid out bare.

It's not just numbers, dry and cold,

But dreams and truths, both bought and sold.

A map that shows the road ahead,

For those who read and dare to tread.

With every page, it forms the key,

Unlocking all that’s yet to be.

It captures trends, both big and small,

And answers questions, one and all.

A report can shine a hopeful light,

Or bring the darkness to our sight.

It’s not the truth, but just a part,

A guide, a tool for mind and heart.

Through charts and graphs, the data speaks,

Of ups and downs, of peaks and streaks.

The facts unfold, but still remain,

A puzzle waiting to explain.

So trust the report, both sharp and true,

A mirror of the world we view.

It tells the tale with steady grace,

Of where we’ve been and what we face.

For in the data, bold and clear,

We find our path, we quell our fear.

A report may guide, may warn, may show,

The way to growth, or the path below.

In boardrooms bright or classrooms bare,

A report is present everywhere.

It’s the silent voice that speaks with might,

Guiding decisions, setting right.

With every line, the truth unfurls,

A map of numbers in the world.

It paints the picture, makes it clear,

The road ahead, the path we steer.

But know, within each measured line,

The human hand is there to sign.

The choices made, the truths we seek,

Are shaped by those who dare to speak.

So let the report, in form and grace,

Be more than just a fleeting trace.

Let it be the bridge that links the past,

To what will come, and what will last.

Through every figure, every plot,

We see what’s gained, what we have sought.

A report, then, is more than words,

It’s the pulse of life, both seen and heard.

So read it well, and understand,

The report is there to lend a hand.

It shows the way, it clears the mist,

A quiet guide that can't be missed.