But it has lost its element
under the cry of dry leaves,
turned orange by summer wind,
while twirling in the soft breeze,
it awaits the end happily,
carries only gentle desires
I wish my color was green
I want to embrace the spring again
In the silence, I hear a scream
A boy, twelve or thirteen,
wants only the blue toy. Although his mother
was kind, she has no money.
She gave him a green instead,
and now the boy is furious.
He shouts, like a twelve year old,
I want to play with the other one,
I wish to throw the green.