O winter evenings, When mother led me by the hand Into darkened cinemas Where a film had already started Like a dream someone else was having Into which we had walked in

To find a young woman writing a letter And pausing to wipe her eyes In a room with a view of the gray sea And a bird flying about in a cage No one was paying any attention to, Nor to the white ship on the horizon, Perhaps drawing closer, perhaps sailing away.

It was an occupied city, I forgot to say. We trudged our way home Bundled heavily against the cold, Keeping our eyes to the ground Along the treacherous, dimly lit streets