I'd found a proper fitting space
where I felt I could stay,
be comfortable and happy
in my simple sort of way.
I slipped on in and snuggled down,
the niche was cozy tight,
all small and warm and welcoming,
it fit my form just right.
But once I'd gotten settled in,
I felt a tiny nudge.
I'm not sure where it came from
but it tried to make me budge.
A gentle thing at first,
a mere suggestion that I move,
that nudge became a push
and then the push became a shove.
Then suddenly I was falling,
with nothing to grab hold.
Oh silly, silly, stupid me,
I forgot what I'd been told:
'Don't make yourself too comfortable,
don't find yourself a home,
for none will let you settle, dear,
you'll always have to roam.'