From The Room Poem by Solomon Sunday

The night is dark
My room is black
The rain is drizzling
The moon is risen
Its gonna be a cold night
I can hear the march of Knight

Out of my room I look into the sky
The stars are gone
The wind is come
The cloud is thick
The mud release the tick

The leaves are wavering
Left to right
The ground is wet
The meal is set
Walk gently to prevent a fall

Though the weather is changed
It will not be yoke beyond its range
Take your place
And stay in your space

Your race is not by pace
But by grace
Remember to set an alarm before you sleep