Money are so naughty and cunning,
They behave just stunning.
I go out – they follow me,
I come back – they harrow me.
They don’t want to come back home,
They would like a bit more to roam.
They sometimes don't want to go home with me at all.
They would like a bit more to stroll.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 2nd of October,2011
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem