Summer Days in Amsterdam

I’ve always wanted to travel. As a young girl, I would dream of distant lands and meeting new people. However, I got caught up in my own little world of relationships here in America, trying to find my way. I don’t think I ever really believed I could make it anywhere oceans away.

And I haven't, for the most part, but with the glorious invention of technology and gurus like Mark Zuckerberg coding social media outlets, I have made many friends from around the globe; however, none as special as the young guy I met from Amsterdam. We both often wonder how we came to meet, neither of us can recall who asked who to become friends on Facebook. It seems one day we were friends out of the blue and from the first conversation knew the friendship was special.

I never really asked him, but for me, it was fate, we seemed to have a similar existence, even though mine had been a bit longer than his. We both seemed to be targets for heartbreak and struggle. We are the unique in this world of complicated society. Both of us simple beings of just living our own life without being materialistic types or care too much for a major social life.

This poem was inspired by his faithful friendship of understanding, and I don’t think he realizes exactly how much it means to me that he has been my companion to lean on even though he’s so far away.

He told me the

summer days were hot,

sticky and miserable

full of drought.

Heavy to breathe,

it carries him away

to restless nights

and stagnated days.

However, when it finally rains,

the sun's flames

burn out, and

Amsterdam becomes

a grey belle;

abound with umbrellas

of people walking around.

It’s weird, he says,

it’s a briskly feel of humid

mixed with a cool appeal.

The puddles become

clear and magnify the city,

and as you walk by them,

you see a picturesque vision;

blue skies and tree lines shine

with shimmer.

He takes pictures

for me and with his

gracious demeanor,

explains every little

detail with such

spirit and vigor.

And as I listen and

look at the views,

I keep hope to myself

that time will stand still.

I admire my friend

from over the sea,

and I appreciate all his

time he gives up for me.

Few his age would

choose to do so, I know

there are many more

places he could go.

I may never get

my wish to travel

to Amsterdam

And see my dear friend

but my mind still drifts

to the Netherlands;

corner cafes sipping tea,

sitting with him and

conversing dreams.

Jumping on trams

and laughing out loud,

because I don’t

understand the way

the Dutch sound.

Two years ago,

I was extremely

lucky to find in him

a generous mate;

not of love, but

of life and fate.

A loving and kind

mystery man, it’s the

most special

friendship that I’ve

ever had.

He may be young,

and I might not be,

but that is of

no matter in the grand

scheme of things.

For barriers have

been broken with us;

it is our age and distance

that instead carry us,

to an understanding of

different worlds, in current

times, a peace seems

to unfurl and we become

intertwined.