A picture of Amsterdam. Bare trees under glass. Framed. In the afternoon light. Of a winter long past. When I was a raiser. To Dublin I'd roam. She was a bareback rider. Some miles from home. Come back to me. She's a carnival driver. Hung in the sky. Cutting through time. Like a memory. Strung on a wire. The color of anything. Fades in the air. But she is the film. Of a book of the story. Of the smell of her hair. Come back to me. When every thing's over. And every thing's clear. When everyone's older. And no one is here. I try to remember. A girl on a wire. Tumbling and diving. Above Stephen's Green. Like a kite on the air. Come back to me