The Light

There is a gentle sway of the light, 
reminding me of unpredictable days. 
The moon rests on my lap, my face glows, just like those days, far away, when the stems of fruits were greener on my side. 
Somehow, 
the light has a way with me, 
like the sunray in the path I walk, nowhere yet somewhere close to home. 
Lurking beneath the sheet of sleep, the dim light awakens me from time to time, as I think about important truths — my sons, their struggle in this world for greatness. 
I slip back under the night, yet I still see the flickers of light, swaying, shimmering around my thoughts. 
I know that day is approaching soon, but I still cling to the lights of night — the moon, the moonlit reflection in the pool, grey waves beneath the dark sky.