Missing you - but with anticipation

Now that you've been here and gone, my house is lonely. Something within these rooms is listening now for inflections of voice, like music sung once only (for close remembrance); and the pictures bow, leaning as if to find you, where you sat, or stood, arriving, leaving, bearing love, carrying it with you, yours for me, and mine for you as long as life. My house speaks of your absence, misses you, hums you like a tune, knowing you'll come again, and I'll be waiting, some misty May, some morning-glory June: And oh, what joy you'll bring for celebrating! All my remembrance will run forth to greet you, and even the arms of lamplight stretch to meet you.

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