Yes, I thought it might be a bit difficult to open it up after-the-fact. But I should point out that your being stopped by the desire to keep it a Petrarchan sonnet only emphasizes the fact that it is the words that rule here, and not the poem beyond the words. That tyranny of the form has become, for me, a pitfall of formalism. I guess I am more into a veteran formalism, one that wants the form to vanish into the poem (no matter how prominent it may have loomed during composition). And the idea of a landscape cloaked in darkness, both the literal dark and the more figurative dark of fading memory, is exactly the extra touch that would make this poem come alive on the page to more than just my verbal ear.
Nemo
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