When The Day Comes

   


It sings, songs to my    
nomad warrior    
louder than    
the physical address did    
Communal living    
yet again    
(Without the perks)    
   
We exist    
- write    
- comment    
- read    
That is all    
   
Meandering metaphorical    
happiness
Sprinkled in    
personification    
   
I thought I might pop into    
forbidden land, just to read her    
Nearly did    
Then turned to walk away    
Not the type, to poke my    
nose in; when not expected    
   
Then I realised why    
Just why, age was taking toll    
on me    
   
I can account for my type    
   
-¡¿-