In Amsterdam

Walking past a "coffee shop,"
The weed comes wafting out.
Though once I would have thus indulged,
Today I'll do without.

Somehow that's been tucked away,
A relic of my past,
Like youth and risks and craziness -
It wasn't meant to last.

But how that smell just brings it back!
With every single whiff,
I'm tempted just to take a toke,
But I'll stick to a sniff.