The Echo Poem by Edwina Reizer

I heard my voice come back to me.
The echo of it yearned to be
free to travel and be heard,
free to echo out each word.

I yelled some sounds and patiently
awaited their return to me.
All was fine until I said
words to turn my face quite red.

Racy words that I'd never say,
words that could be called risque.
When they came back it sounded worse
than if I yelled a blatant curse.

Embarrassed to hear my voice repeat,
I closed my mouth and did retreat
away from the place that echoed me,
praying these words would not be free
to travel anywhere.