Self Portraits

I've grown accustomed to her face She almost makes the day begin I've grown accustomed to the tune that She whistles night and noon Her smiles, her frowns Her ups, her downs Are second nature to me now Like breathing out and breathing in Safely locked away awhile, with her I'm glad to be Who else would tolerate my fits of rage And my ennui I've grown accustomed to her look Accustomed to her voice Accustomed to her face (I think that's her face)