If there is a possibility
of talks over silences
of trees over buildings
of a "Cup of tea" over "Monster shakes"
of dinning hall over lavish restaurants
of bike rides over the luxury cars
of the smaller town and the greener grass
of the handmade gifts over platinum and diamonds
of being a family over being good friends
of satisfactions over ambitions
of sweet candies over chewing gums
of more fulfillment over lesser promises
of skirts as well as scarves
of "Knock not required"
of "Perfectly warm temperature"
of denials over unclear acceptances
of exceptions from the real world
of a prodigious, clean mirror, where I can see myself, and through it,
You belong to me