The sky over our home runs azure today, in anticipation of your auspicious return.

The trees, young and old, though firm where they stand, sway merrily left and right to the call of the wind that carried with it from miles away the news of homecoming.

The porcelain clouds that bestride the preponderance of the infinite, seem to shy away when I lift my gaze as if in response to the light not from the luminary aglow but from the hearts of your cherished who await your sparkling presence, having found respite from gloom.

The fowled friends of the air, now astir betimes, chirp softer than they did before, as if to remind the world of the inhuman dearth of your dulcet tone.

The days are now spent wantonly hurried, for each one fetched to the past, you arrive sooner.