I bet the title
gave you an image,
an idea that
I will now pillage.
This is not about
twelve written stories,
a dozen of my
cheap allegories.
Nope, this is about
the building I’m in.
The twelth floor contains
my office within.
I look out and see,
such a pretty view,
with green trees, brown hills,
and a blue sky too.
There is just one thing
that could top it too,
if the glass held a
reflection of you.
