I saw you in a Swedish room,
Wood piles and smoke plumes
Framed by the window
As you drink there from the tap.
I sit up and watch the sparks
That jump out of your dress.

I saw you in a Swedish room
As I look back from the stair,
Descending the spiral
And on to the market square
And down the avenue,
Along the collonade,
Thinking about the sound you made
Cutting tangles from your hair.