Short Poem for Dylan Thomas

If I could have written

For an eternity

In the language

In which I was raised,

Or walked the miles

Of the Swansea valley

Were the young foals

And the calves grazed.

I would have taken my leave

Of the White Horse Tavern

Where I drank my weight

In whiskey and beer,

And remained at the Boat House

In Laugharne forever,

To write my poetry

For only my Caitlin to hear.