Those Poor Autumn Leaves Poem by Colin Breck Boardman

Those poor Autumn leaves,
All lost and unattached,
Shuffling shyly,
Seem to ask me sadly
For some lines of grief.

Alas, though they may grieve,
Their falls I cannot catch,
When they float all crisp and dryly,
Since I'm falling just as badly
And our meetings must be brief.

So despite what they believe,
Pen to paper won't be matched,
As I now must smile wryly,
Pretending I shall gladly
Send them some relief.