Each Syllable A Sonnet. Poem by PAUL COLVIN

Her words filtrate the morning air
So pure, so sweet, so clear.
Each spoken word is so phonetic,
Unrehearsed, yet so poetic.
Smooth and rich, the sweetest sound,
Caressing everyone around.
A voice exuding grace and flair,
Gentle, soft and full of care.
A cultured tongue with perfect diction,
This Scottish brogue is no affliction.
It’s like a whisper in the breeze,
Touching, softly, glistening leaves
Her letters dance upon her tongue
Calming words so sweetly sung,
They’re indirect yet so commanding
Though the voice itself is not demanding
This charming, warming, sweetest noise,
I dream: this is an Angel’s voice.