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Jul 2014
We used to go down by the old dock
To wait for the boats to pass by
In Amsterdam's last nook
With our old hand gloves
That kept the last inch of our old selves attached to our bodies
And the air was fresh
Filling our lungs with aromatic daytime
The buildings leaped out of the river
Making the horizon line a thin slip above us
And we came alone
To Amsterdam
To the handsome port here
Just to get some chips in a cone

In the Afternoon when the fog had gone and the cold had warmed
We went for a long walk
Just on our own
Through the city
Along the Canals
My lord It was beautiful to see it all so clearly
The floating tops of great cathedrals
And slanted open top house boats
We even rented out bikes
Saw the streets by night
Felt the chilly winds return
But in bed felt the warm ironed sheets beneath us
And we came once a year
To Amsterdam
To The constricted Canals
Just to get some chips in a Cone

But we did go home of course
Well you did
I though, never left those days we spent
In the golden light of the canal-side winter markets
You moved on and called it a thing that we used to do when we were young
When we had more time than sense
I still remember it as if it was yesterday
Us in a peddle boat
Passing the Frank's old place
With that love of the past
And of just silence
And we came with each other
To Amsterdam
To the storm of riverside cyclists
Just to get some chips in a cone

I'll never forget them
Those chips in a cone we had
At least seven times a trip
We'd go up to the stand by the canal
And not worry about our health for once
This was more important
It was the chips in a cone that brought us together
And the taste of such a simple thing still makes me smile
I remember the last and final time we went
Just before we had our first son
It was the night before we left
And I went up to the woman in the chip in a cone stand
One more order
One last chips in a cone
It was all I had come for
So simple but such a milestone
The end to my youth
And we left with each other
From Amsterdam
With a lot more than we brought
Forgetting to finish our chips in a cone
Kind of new style. Not at all personal to me, just a narrative style about one of my favourite cities.
A C Leuavacant
Written by
A C Leuavacant  Paris, France
(Paris, France)   
3.5k
   Farnok, --- and aar505n
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