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  • Sara Lewis

Trâth Y Slâd


Trâth y Slâd. Where my father says my soul walks every night when I sleep. Where he would play and dream as a boy amongst the rocks. Where today I sat alone and not Surrounded by echoes of another time, Shaded by trees who whispered my childhood name ‘Sara Fach’. Where my Grandmother would paddle in silk stockings, my hand in hers (hers in mine) Head thrown back in giggles like a little girl. But not today. She was not there today. And so she sent The Sun to kiss my cheek instead. Today I sat on Trâth y Slâd Sadhappy Happysad.


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