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Nigel Paolo Grageda

Sonnet 42 - Tomorrow's Eyes


At rest with tomorrow's eyes

had me twined in sweetened brace,

for it thaws the frosty cries

that rolled the feet to catch grace

amongst the spring of the thread;

To strike the most valiant cloud,

the luscious spire teems instead;

An oath to rid smoke and crowd,

least for extreme temperament,

as to clear the lurid noose

of hands in dared sentiment;

I must declare and cut them loose –

with only arms to wrap tight

and not untie amidst night.

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