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