Outside the sun is shining
The brightness makes you squint
Not a cloud to block the glorious rays
That solar lamp has sent
Where I sit inside is different
Not a window, just a door
The only ray of light, florescent
From the ceiling to the floor
No way to tell from inside here
Is it morning, night, or noon?
While outside the day so sterling
Is a wasting in this room
by Yvonne Golden