Greed

Unkind wind go past by tree.
The wind takes her last clothes.
Only a nest remains on her cold arms.
She believes the bird will come back someday.

A giant dried brown monster lies on the ground.
Nobody knows where they are.
Going down deep inside, you might find what you want.
Do not cry a little squirrel.

Winter has cold and lonely fragrance.
He is the incarnation of auarice.
Yelling, taking and throwing.
Greed, greed, greed.
He never satisfies.