The viceroy was vigilant in his vice,
protecting his venture into vicarious viewing.
From his vantage it was not a violation,
vehement in his vigorous vassalage,
underestimating veracity.
He kept a vault of his vehemence venerated
in Venice, it seemed venial there.
In time the valuation seemed more vain
than valuable, there was that valise in the back.
Proof that he had a moment of valor,
he wasn't a vapid valentine, he sighed thinking.
The viceroy wanted to vacate the valley,
he needed a valve to vent the venture.
Wishing for a vessel he could vault onto
with vigor for another view of a different vignette.
His viscera held in a virtual vice
unable to visit the virtuous, in the background
he heard the violin strummed by the virago
and sighed again.