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So much a man has locked fast, down inside.
He dives through days, comes only up to gasp,
to flail and try to pause, never to grasp
what he has lost, no doubts on what to hide.

But then that word, picked up in town one day.
A voice of hope came lancing through one's sleep.
"Love", it said; a timbre smooth and deep
made one's head turn - all blinders fell away:

She moves and talks among us, while her breast
sports ribbons bound invisibly to all,
each word, each movement draws my heart up there,
no jealousy nor fear is left to bear,
the secret inner door released. I call
her radiant wavelength, and forget the rest.
A sonnet, written 2001 or 2002, for a very graceful woman who turned out in the end to be focussed elsewhere. I think I got the rhyming done okay, but the metre is a little wobbly sometimes.

The whole thing sounds a little "American", so I've been wondering whether I should "fake in" American spelling - like "thru" instead of "through". What do you think?

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Submitted on
January 6, 2013
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