The Minolta Kiwi

He looks around wondering,
How big is this place?
Te Puke, Auckland, God only knows,
He prefers a snails pace.
His Mother crossed the ocean,
Many years ago,
And of all the crazy things in life,
Married a dude called Paolo.
He was expecting a small town,
Where, perhaps he could reside,
Take photographs,
Maybe in time, find a beautiful bride.
But all has turned to tragedy,
For the challenge appears to great,
That a top Kiwi policeman,
In Melbourne would find a mate.
Too big for me he declared,
Small city man that’s me,
From one side of Melbourne to the other,
Is a trip by air or sea?
Impressed by the city nightlights,
His shutter answered the call,
And at least one thing about Melbourne,
Allowed him to have a ball.
And he took a tour in the country,
Via a very famous beach,
But Port Campbell and the Twelve Apostles,
Was the ultimate destination to reach?
With Paolo as his chauffeur,
And Mother dear as the guide,
This top Kiwi policeman,
Fancied something else to ride.
He had to use that camera,
A Minolta pretty fair,
But he reckoned everything would look better,
If taken from high in the air.
So with the magic of his dream,
And a wonderful credit card,
He took off in a chopper,
With his mother and the Bard.