Imagination. . .

some say it is conjecture,
a figment of mind,
not real.

I visit it often
as it is a place for me.
It is part of my
history.

In a certain place
and a certain time
we fall into a rhythm;
it is a dance.

We learned our steps
and our feet
did our beckoning.
But it was to our music
that we danced.

I am for real as
I can be and you, too.
Unless you think I am
a figment of imagination
and then of course, you?

Perhaps, we then
can be visited often
as a place of conjecture.

Large as life?

art by Claudia Hallissey