The Pale Banner

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 17:54:35 -

The Pale Banner

The wren sang. It sang in the high tower. The song was thin. It cut the air. I watched the bird. It was small. It was gray. It did not stop. I am old. My hands are like roots. They tremble. I am the Keeper. I keep the records. I keep the silence. The city is gray. Stone and stone. The rain falls. It hits the gutters. It runs down. It is cold. My name is Thomas. I am alone. I have been alone for...

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