Dona Galore's voice

 Gardening your voice
I plane it out with every syllable
I utter the correction
I overflow over it

Sound is my dragon my keeper
I aspire to become duke of the mountain where it lives
The early Earl of these graceful rocks and voice
provocative forests that are colored just the right shade

I ask for your echo to ring out through this very valley
So I can capture that voice on the breeze
Bouncing back to me directly
I'll be gardening that voice

Planting your words in a line
Cultivating them until they reluctantly flower
In my own scarred hands
For the privilege of their scent

Unashamedly their taste Dona Galore