So Tremulously Like a Dream
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.