The Lights that you see

The lights that you see with your eyes tightly shut
Are the lamps on a mountainous track,
The welcoming glow from the wanderer’s hut
With its promise of brandy and brack.
Perched like a crow on the treacherous slope,
O’erlooking the boulder-strewn gulf,
A symbol of refuge, a promise of hope,
Escape from the ravenous wolf.

The lights that you see with your eyes tightly clenched
Are the lights on your grandfather’s porch,
Where hunger is sated and burning thirst quenched
‘Neath the glow of an old oil-dipped torch.
The coy smell of childhood wafts down from the haulm,
The grasshoppers chirp in the night,
And your grandmother’s bosom is gentle and warm
As it puts howling monsters to flight.