A Fantasy

If circumstances were different;
If you were not who you were,
And I not what I am,
Then gladly would I whisk you away
To my yacht at anchor off St. Kitts,
Or to my chalet in St Moritz;
And I would seduce you with honeyed words,
Spend long nights exploring your delectable flesh,
Delight your senses with sweetmeats and oranges,
Building fantasy, mounting upon fantasy
In a tower reaching to the heavens,
A pleasure castle for the two of us,
Unmatched in splendour,
And ungrounded in reality,
That breaks in to remind us
That you are you, and I am me,
Constrained to play our appropriate roles,
Congenial, but separate,
As we are supposed to be.

But still, I can dream.