The hosteller's cry

Like the slippery sand spilling over my dry hand,
Like the freely falling water gulped by the thirsty land, 
So immediately, these moments are passing by;
The nostalgia of which, when I depart from these people, will make me bitterly cry.
I grieve not much, as there will always be the overpowering bliss,
As these cheerful talks, the laughter, and everything joyous, I did never miss.
Like a camera captures a picture, so will I, in my heart's core;
For the time spent with family is priceless, the appetite for which will always grow more and more....