In another world,
With trees of gold,
Would we have lived
On the same street?

Seldom, I wonder,
Would we have been
Born across each other,
Sharing the same gene?

Would you have  looked,
Outside of your window,
And instantly be spooked
To see, in front, a mirror?

No, it is not a mirror, that you see,
It's actually a window
And that girl, is me
Sitting on a pillow

I, like you, stay hours at my desk
With my favorite pen in hand
All is a bit Kafkaesque
And just like you,I like my tea fanned.