In Amsterdam,there are whirls of cold wind that would unroot one
Amsterdam's not the the place for crybabies, nor for the very holy
as there's no space for resting melancholia,
the weather won't allow it - a whirl would swirl one's mood
and dry out the spirit
And, then again,
there are the dripping drops pointedly reaching the back of your neck - at anytime,
regardless of precautions or conventions
there are whirlwinds
that could sweep the blood out of your veins
and wipe out the will to and thought of fare well;
there is a specific whirlwind
that could make one blush, as it'd flush the blood in the cheek.
only a leaf to squeeze on, roll upon and engulf - that's the only salvation.
swallowed by whirlwinds, getting carried away.