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.
I was serenely independent and content before we met;
Surely I could always be that way again-
And yet 
I've grown accustomed to her look; 
Accustomed to her voice; 
Accustomed to her face. 
But I'm so used to hear her say 
"Good morning" ev'ry day. 
Her joys, her woes, 
Her highs, her lows, 
Are second nature to me now; 
Like breathing out and breathing in. 
I'm very grateful she's a woman 
And so easy to forget; 
Rather like a habit 
One can always break- 
And yet, 
I've grown accustomed to the trace 
Of something in the air; 
Accustomed to her face.