the narrow straats of Amsterdam
the narrow straats of Amsterdam
wind cleverly around the canals,
those veins of the old city,
carrying on their stones
the variety of life that makes the city what it is;
the green water flowing
through the Gentleman's Canal with its canalhouses,
the Red Light District with its sex dens,
past coffee shop and hash bar
and Rijksmuseum's famous Night Watch;
past me, walking slowly ahead,
wanting to run off and lose myself in the city.
the narrow straats of Amsterdam
offer a strange kind of salvation,
freedom not in sex or hash or history
but freedom in one's mind,
for the people here - and I mean not
the tourists with their English, French, German -
but the ones who make the city home
seem to carry with them a sense of inner pride,
the beauty of the city reflected in their souls.
the narrow straats of Amsterdam
whisper up a subtle promise to my heart,
"return to us. when you are ready to be free,
return."
these narrow straats of Amsterdam
could be home
straat = street
sashay.