II. THE TOWER

There's a flag on my tower,

And my windows

Are orange to the night.

They are set in grey stone that frowns

At the black wind.

Inside, there's a guest at my hearth,

And a fire

Painting the grey stone gold.

My windows are black

With the hungry night peering through them.

Blackness lurks in corners,

Wind snatches the sparks,

Tongs and poker jangle together

Like the iron bones

Of a man that was hanged.