Moving

Trembling we approach it,
This thing that we have chose.
To leave all that we've worked for
And follow Daddy's nose
To an unfamiliar city,
With new, unfamiliar rows
Of neatly painted houses,
With their tidy garden rose.
And for a new adventure
We'll buy ourselves one of those.
It's a terrifying prospect
To pack up all your throws
For a different sort of winter
Where instead of rain it snows.
But in spite of apprehension
There's another sort of tension
That speaks to one who knows.
And the prospect of new people
And opportunities glows
Across the face of wise ones
As they track the ebbs and flows
Of the myriadic peoples
Who live in tidy rows.