Home is where the heart is..

When I come back to an empty house, I miss home.

When I reach home after a long day, I wish the lights were already on.
I wish someone opened the door for me, I hate to open it with the keys..

If I reach late, I look for a Dad who would say " What took you so long dear..?"
I miss the smell of fresh food filling the rooms, the whistles of the pressure cooker.
I hate cooking just for myself, mostly instant noodles, or oats. 

When I come back to an empty house, I miss home.

A sister who does not stop chattering about her day in college.
A brother who fights for the TV remote.
When I am tired, I look for Mum, to caresses my hair.

The cold room with empty walls makes me feel lonely.
When I come back to an empty house, I miss home.

I miss the home which is warm with love and care.
The home, where I enter and I am completely myself. 
Leaving behind the world of competition, pursuits and chases.
Shut the door behind to fear and commotion.

When I come back to an empty house, I miss home.

I miss being called by my pet name. 
Sometimes, I wish to be taken care of. 
Like a small kid.
Tired of being independent, and alone.
Going back to my house everyday, I miss going home.