Words drift in my mind like feathers in the wind,

Gently floating, gliding, coming, and going.

Words escape my lips like soapy bubbles

Shimmering in the evening sun and bursting

As if they never were...


I cannot help but wonder:

Where do they go once spoken?

Do they buddy up in the Ether

In sentences still unbroken?


Do they fly away like a winged murmur

Searching to build their nest in open minds?

Or do they hover in the stratosphere

Like rusty satellites in need of repair?


Once spoken, they take on a life of their own

And freely roam the atmosphere.

Their malevolence causes pained frowns

Their benevolence acts as a soothing balm.


Based on their meaning, their weights differ:

Some are well worth their weight in gold

While others never could win a tug-of-war

Nor tip the odds in their favor.


Beware of your secret power!

Carefully select your 'wordrobe'

So that it never goes out of style

And never lands in a junk pile.


Loved infused words surely ascend

Like the fragrance of a prized incense.

They sneak their way into aching hearts

And induce them to slow dance.


Words dipped in darkness never rise to the light

Yet the light can reveal their bareness

And help them find their way out of their stinky dungeons

Like seedlings breaking through the frozen ground

Offering their baby faces to be kissed by the sun.


Anyas Spencer, February 26, 2016

Fri, 02/26/2016