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©