They moved into the house
and wishing it wasn't so empty
opened a window to let everything in -

light, rumours, chatter from their country,
the sea and its silver, white birds
with bronze-coloured eyes, faces of flowers
which did not- could not- grow- live- here,
the past tense of another language.

Sooner, later, night fell, made them blow warmth
into their palms and close the window securely,
and remember they had arrived -

That their other life
now waited like a faithful dog
behind that sheet of glass, scratching,
sniffing the bluish smell of loneliness.