Yearning

In a strange city, making friend with a glass of hot coffee
Talking to nobody, as if there are here with me
Being alone in the room like a real lonely
Sitting by the glass, sitting as hours pass slowly

In a strange city, waiting for the rain stop pouring heavily
Killing time with writing while this mind can't stop thinking fiercely
Being a grown up means to be free
Never considering the needs of maturity

In a strange city, looking at the rain pouring so heavily
Being lonely and feels like I need mommy
Sitting by me after cooking dinner for me
Yeah, after far away, I start missing the family


* I found this old prose and it is successfully taken me back to my early moment leaving in Jakarta.