Chapter 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.