I lose friends
Regularly
Like an autumn oak tree
Shedding leaves
My friends all flee
Like guilty thieves
Bereaved and bowing
In the breeze
Which also leaves
Or brushes past
A reddened cheek
A tousled lock
The sway of hips
In a summer frock
Receding
Only the sparky sparrows
Show some sign
Of loyalty
And the pigeons, cowing
Who treat
Any sandwich munching
Muser like some
Disabused royalty
But the friends
(And the breeze)
Move on
And the leaves on the trees
Still fall
And the ink on the page
For all I know
Would like to flee me too
And the fault is all mine
But the leaves and the trees
And the breeze and the thieves
Are still devine