What Would I Be?
What would I be....hmmmm....I kept this list running for several days before posting...a suggestion to 'play' from one of my favourite blogs http://www.thedreamingpress.typepad.com/
If I were…………
If I were a month, I would be June
If I were a day, I’d be Thursday
If I were a time of day, I would be 11:00 a.m.
If I were a font, I’d be Helvetica
If I were a sea animal, I would be a seahorse
If I were a direction, I’d be east
If I were a piece of furniture, I would be a hammock
If I were a liquid, I'd be spring water
If I were a gemstone, I'd be an emerald
If I were a tree, I'd be a weeping willow
If I were a tool, I'd be a paint brush....
If I were a flower, I would be a pink peony.
If I were an element of weather, I'd be a Scottish mist..
If I were a musical instrument, I'd be a djembe drum
If I were a colour, I would be green
If I were an emotion, I'd be calm...I would work at being calm
If I were a fruit, I would be warm ripe raspberries
If I were a sound I would be any sound that water makes
If I were an element, I would be silver
If I were a car I'd be a spring green
If I were a food, I would be a fresh baked Naan.
If I were a place, I'd be a a vineyard
If I were a material, I'd be fine merino wool
If I were a taste, I would be dark chocolate
If I were a song, I would be “A Case of You“ by Joni Mitchell.
If I were a bird, I'd be a hummingbird
If I were a gift, I'd be something I made with my hands
If I were a city, I'd be Paris
If I were a door, I'd be shiny black with a big brass knocker.
If I were a pair of shoes, I would be shoes that would take me around the world
If I were a poem I would be this poem from the film "Sense & Sensability"
By Hartley Coleridge
Is love a fancy, or a feeling? No.
It is immortal as immaculate Truth,
'Tis not a blossom shed as soon as youth,
Drops from the stem of life--for it will grow,
In barren regions, where no waters flow,
Nor rays of promise cheats the pensive gloom.
A darkling fire, faint hovering o'er a tomb,
That but itself and darkness nought doth show,
It is my love's being yet it cannot die,
Nor will it change, though all be changed beside;
Though fairest beauty be no longer fair,
Though vows be false, and faith itself deny,
Though sharp enjoyment be a suicide,
And hope a spectre in a ruin bare.