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So Tremulously Like a Dream

Leila Lois

After Dylan Thomas

I run my fingers through your hair, which falls like silk-crêpe,

your lips, a blushing button-hole carnation,

spring is an unfolding letter around us,

petals fall, your eyes are clouds, mist-steeped lakes.

I catch your gaze, we kiss, our hands lace,

your eyes soft with a primal blaze,

& I think of the Welsh tale of the dog, Gelert,

who fought a wolf to save an infant

‘The rarest form of love is loyalty’ this tale says.

‘A lamb in the home, a lion in the chase’,

You breathe into me & hold me in your strong arms.

We embrace.

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