The strings were the most innocuous things,
Certain I was that no harm they would bring.
The mallets soft on timpani have bark,
But bite requires they miss their mark.
Horn may signal the hunt, but here it sings.
Trumpet's clarion call? Heralds a king.
Piccolo or flute? Shrill but a mere lark.
Clarinet, mellow trumpet, contrast stark.
Bassoon, formidable branch, trouble yet?
Double reed; not even on a long bet.
Trombones three, start with t, long, low, slide punch?
Let's talk over brunch if that was your hunch.
So come again to innocuous strings.
Viola turns, makes the bell for me ring.
Copyright ©️ 2024 H.K. Longmore
Musings of a Kunderian Monster 