My words fly up…

Where do words go
when uttered?

The sounds die, but does the word itself
                fly up for a holiday
while meaning remains to stay
in the mind, not minding
                their business done?

I can picture the letters
each on a towel on the beach,
wearing sunglasses,
shining from suntan lotion,
while waves gently kiss the beach.

Or perhaps, because we do not mind
where they go, they get evicted, cold
and lonely out on the streets, perhaps
even in a strange world
                for they are not of our life
                in body and shape,

words in rags, their letters broken,
not remembering
                their structure, function
                even place and time?

But no, seriously, those words
were mine and I remember many
of my old friends.

Just as I am healing over time,
finally finding my home in my own life,
I put the letters back together,
pick them up, reassemble the words
by restoring their senses, reconstructing
them into true sentences to become
walls for my new home
(Johnny Five? He is alive!)

and then to let them fly up,
reassured in full,
(for words with thoughts
do to heaven go)

to the heavenly beaches
to be kissed gently
by waves of bliss,
because I care for my own.