A Foreign Land.

The froth of the tea does not excite me the way it does,
Now that I can mimic the entire of my Mother’s recipe, the taste is uneven though it looks as close,
Homecoming to the extra comfort of freshly made evening snacks has paved their way to a lesser comfort of leftover burritos, 
The inside jokes do not claim anymore a monstrous laugh that gets you almost choked.
No more extra brownie points for getting that messy room cleaned, but jazzed to have enough place to get your head to sleep,
Waking up to the alarm has never been this peaceful, even the body has started missing out on the screams.
Festivities have never mattered more than decorated homes and lip-smacking delicacies,
This heart surely craves for that mushy hugs and kisses.
Missing and Cravings for a home-like feel is an organic proclivity.
But finding pieces of you, to explore and deploy,
Waking up to work the extra and be proud and crying to your joy,
Falling in love with yourself a little more than yesterday, to trip and yet manage to keep your heads high,
And to create your own small niche in The Foreign Land is certainly all worth for that Goodbye.