You hum, meaninglessly, tunelessly, almost like a newborn, making me laugh. You sleep like you don't have a worry in the world. And then, you wake up, and start off again, on your rigorous, ambitious efforts to chase your dreams. There is a difference in the way our pens move, I write sonnets, and you, solve sums; i read poetry, and you business; i dream beaches and flowers, you dream companies and cars. In my world of dimensionless literature, you are a muggle. And I love you, hence and inspite.