Outside of the arrow slit windows

beyond my off-white containment chamber

leaves have dressed in their fall colors

and dance to the beat of the rain.

In here I am morbid and gloomy

how I long to see more of outside

for the windows mock

with their small portrait of heaven

and I write by the dim electric bulb.

Inside the clock ticks its rhythm

a metronome that sets the beat of my day.

Beyond these plaster walls time is nothing but light

the sun and the moon hold sway.

So I sit with my college ruled paper

text books piled neatly nearby

my pencil spills lead

a monotonous task

my work is finished at last.