Amsterdam

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I dream of crooked walls
centuries of dust kept quiet under royal hues
where beauty is evident beyond the horizons of locals
They ride bicycles there, on cobbled streets
traffic lights flicker on old television sets only
replaced by the youthful and invigorating
I have heard of parks
Hollywood's playpens
not far from the windmills that still churn and turn
I long for the change
the unwaivering commitment
to keeping a nation dry
and alive