Of Ladders And Fate

I left this door agape, it was no oversight and no intent ought to be read into my slight of hand if that is what they think. A draft of harsh and ugly words most laden with indignity and bundled into reprimands with poisoned stinger darts wafts in to occupy my space and I retreat and call, in vain for you where are you LOVE, what have the bastards done, is not your place with me, your arms encircling me your so delicious lips caressing mine, your tongue which ought to speak its magic whispers into tastebuds just to say that we are joined if not at birth then as a magic Siamese, acquired by pure chance while on an estuary dance? Oh, yes, I see you now, you look so pretty there, among the eucalypts, had I been more prepared I'd be a saviour to you and hand you down a ladder from the sky, to climb, led by your decolleté into my waiting arms. Tis very sad my LOVE, but wait, I note your tears, a thousand drops, like rain amidst the smile, oh yes, your Happy Smile! I understand, and it must be my kisses will be yours and yours be mine, we must not wait for fancy ladders or for fate.