There is, I think, a universe
That’s parallel to mine.
Where someone else who looks like me
Lives in a different time.

She looks and thinks a lot like me
Her eyes are hazel green
But she has witnessed many things
My eyes have never seen.

For one small thing is different,
I’m not sure what or why,
And that conspires to alter how
Her life goes flashing by.

Consider now the other ones
Who cross her path each day.
Each of them with their small thing
That’s altered in some way.

It all adds up to make a world
That’s quite unlike my own
Where alternate realities
Have taken root and grown.

I wonder what she thinks about
And does she think of me?
Does she wear glasses when she writes,
Or draws, or paints, or reads?

I’d like to send a message ‘cross
That existential track.
“If you've seen my glasses could
You kindly send them back?”