When the cool night air is clear that is when I shall be found,
Pacing the lanes and byways by the light of the moon.
Trusting each step in the gloom to fate and a keen eye,
The squelch of muddy puddles underfoot tells of my progress,
The soft jingle of the front door key dangling round my neck,
Announces softly my approach.
Dressed in black I pace the lanes and byways by the light of the moon,
Closed curtains emit the soft glow of home for so many as I pass silently by.
Yet here is my home,
On the lanes and byways by the light of the moon.
The odd dog walker or late night cyclist appears from the gloom,
And with a gentle ‘hello’ is gone,
Swept up in the growing torrent of steps.
For here I am at home on the lanes and byways by the light of the moon,
Here I am free to let my mind run wild,
As my feet guide me home.
The pace is relentless,
I shall not falter,
For I must drive on,
In the fight I have chosen to join.
The fight to the light,
Not the light of the moon,
But the bright light of freedom from the terrible gloom.
I fight for my soul, myself and my girls,
I fight the depression that lurks round every corner,
It will not conquer me,
Nor dull my day.
Depression shall not make me a sad dull father,
Without a smile that says ‘I love you’,
And a twinkle in the eye of mischief and adventure.
For my girls I shall be strong,
Strong enough to throw off these binding shackles,
For my girls are young with the whole world and life before them,
And so have I!
So I pace these lanes and byways by the light of the moon and the fight goes on…