H
Hindemith hindered her hibernation hopes.
How hansome harmonies hurt.
They hint at her lonliness, her homelyness.
She hunts her heart, hankering for a humdinger to hold her here.
Honour? Him?
Her hand hits a howitzer.
She hears him.
It's heady to hold.
But perhaps better to let go.
Copyright © Grace Williams | Year Posted 2012
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