I stare out across the waterfront,

Lights dive and swirl like sirens,

Shimmer like jewels in a treasure-hunt;

Here, the homeland of tulips — their environs.

 

“Rookt u? Rookt u?”

Throaty calls that smell of smoke

Meander through streets which see a few

Sail through this Venice of the North by boat.

 

Everything here is home-grown, organic;

Its leafy limbs extend a helping hand

Towards the outlandish botanic

Cobbles. Paradise more beautiful than the Rio Grande.

 

My coffee cup sits empty,

A few precious crumbs the only debris,

It looks to me like emerald confetti,

Which back home would be fruit from a poison tree.

 

Languidly I rise and stroll onto the canal —

Dusk has wrapped herself in a starry shawl —

If Pleasure be my mistress and only rationale,

Then I should bask in the downfall of all false laws

 

Which tumble in favour of a flower:

Petite, fragrant, budding green!

For why should they be so sour,

If it’s not just one dense smokescreen?

 

Other nations’ envy kindles this peridot fire,

Except for the likes of the Golden State

As it already allows what we desire —

What my Ministers rebuke, refute and confiscate.

 

So I savour this serene stroll,

Anaesthetised by the charm of this gabled facade

Which reaches out to comfort and console,

Soon I’ll be washed up on my home shore; liberty a far-away haze.

 

Lines: 32

 

 

Disclaimer: I do not own the featured image. Taken from Aurelia @ http://cityturtle.co.uk/amsterdam/