The harbour slips behind as my feet mount the gorge
Cicadas shrill song from every tree
Stink of Billy goats and semen on the rocks
Small piles of stones as in the high Himalaya
Where pilgrims have passed
Cypress roots push between the rocks
Wind so still yet Africa is never far away
Climbing up,climbing up the rocky hillsides
Until the hill becomes flat
(what a place to love you, the view so huge and wide )
along the earthy path where donkeys have left their mark
Then suddenly the view of Lisssos where once the Romans ran
Tiny blue Bay , turquoise water lapping
Lissos Bay-for you with my eyes.
love Jimmy
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