New Amsterdam

New Amsterdam
by Keaton Foster



New Amsterdam
This is a tale
So as it will go
A place never home
But an ideal sown
There are men
Ones in wooden shoes
They hobble around
Making sounds
Announcing themselves
They cannot hide
They cannot avoid being seen
New Amsterdam
There are Ladies
Ones wearing dresses
In vary shades
Of distinctive blue
They move about
In the tiniest of groups
They speak kind words
And whisper harsh lies
They wish not to be judged
But they are the biggest
Judges of them all
Perfection is not real
But from where I sit
This is as real as it gets
Everyone knows what to do
And how to get it done
For each other and themselves
The symbiotic method
In which they coexist
Puts aside all that should
Otherwise keep them at odds
Their examples are profound
In a world increasingly unresolved
New Amsterdam
At the end of a street
There are boats in rows
Well-crafted vessels
They have stood against time
They have resisted the elements
In those boats are nets
I guess it could be said
A means to an end
Swimming in the nearby sea
An endless bounty of broods
Food for the masses
An idealistic approach
Of a wider cohabitation
In such a place
I have never once been
In my mind
Behind these eyes
I have further lived
Where I am is not the same
People in this place don’t care
Coexistence means least of all
I am write where I want to be
And these words
Will hopefully get me there
New Amsterdam…




New Amsterdam
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2024