Beyond the worldly rodent-race,
a place exists of ageless grace.
The city of the gondolier,
where tourists flock then disappear.

As church bells ring and pigeons fly,
slick merchants call to passersby.
A slice of yesteryear’s page,
that pulls you back to distant age.

To float upon its sleek canals,
as boatmen sing of lovelorn gals.
Perhaps a dream, you truly feel,
that somehow none of this is real.

Bewildered by its ancient hearth,
you lose yourself on winding path.
Absorbed into the spinning wheel,
the labyrinth begins to reel.

You try to find your way again,
so overwhelmed, you count to ten.
Too late, hypnosis takes its toll,
Venezia has claimed your soul.

– J. S.Worth


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