They're making trees out of paper!

Oh, it's all in a good cause.

One leaf says "I wish I was better."

So many others are much worse.

What leapt out at me in the cold 

corridor, where anyone might pass 

was a crinkled leaf I had stooped to pick 

from the tiles, which read

"Am I going home with you?"

Well, no one paints just to cover the canvas

as we speak politely to pass the time.

And if the slips of paper in my pocket

are not all high denomination

I'll take them seriously yet,

Shakespeare or not.