The Isle Of Crete

Do Kangaroo's hop to you?

Does such a shot make, HIP,HOP?

Singing 'round the World,

is exhaustion ever found?

You look at words in written verse.

I wonder what you're thinking? Curse?

Compassion, curious or just plain purse,

is it money? or is it funny?

I watch as you do. No Heart of Gold, resides.

Copy words in memories guise,

is weirdness or another course.

To close, we travel nice.

The strange repore can be ignored,

if me and you look wise!

It is the mount, that may recount,

should people push these lies?

To stay at the Bay, my City it's true.

The birth records my stay.

So dear friend of, the County Upton,

this is not New England's way.

An Island shore, of North repore,

is where you hail not.

For Spanish days are long in May,

and call you home today.

This is the best direction of,

a man that's on display.

Turn right, not left, go straight away,

to home on the Isle's Crete.

Karen A. Placek