Saying goodbye is bad enough when you say it first,

And when you have to say it again its worse.

Each time I grow less and less attached,

As into the big wide world I'm dispatched,

The more I let go,

As a person the more I grow,

I need the comfy cocoon less and less,

Enjoy the freedom of not being in my parent's nest,

But where do I crawl back to when life's a mess?

Though my place and identity in the world has been earned,

I have now learnt,

That home is where you hang your hat,

Somewhere you can go back to, three, four times and more at that.