(04 October 1943 / Germany)

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.

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