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If my Imagination was a Woman

I would probably say hello to her, no doubt with the most sheepish grin. If I were blind she would be my braille. Her skin would speak to me with the language of the World. If my Imagination was a Woman.

She draws wonder to my eyes like the crawling twilight. She’s a living example of god’s piece de resistance. And if she really wanted to, I’m sure she’d be able to fly. If my Imagination was a Woman.

The grass is always greener, on all sides, when she smiles. She would laugh if I told her I loved her. And would, instead, encourage action. She would, in her lithe nature, preserve the essence that makes me, me. If my Imagination was a Woman.

We would be like pages bound in a book, destined to share ideas. Thaweib dkwieba wienvw alwkeeub, would make sense to her. The same Woman would be inescapably arresting, through fun and fury. If my Imagination was a Woman.

Curiosity would be wise to take a page from her passionately magnanimous disposition. She would be my ardent lover, even in a wisp of a thought. I would ask her, with my sheepish grin, if she would be my Woman. And she would reply radiantly, “Only your wildest Imagination”.

-Tasi Alabastro 2011©

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