Air captures space like our minds hold the past,

Ethereal, subtle, dewy vapors,

Composed of stories, of unweighted mass,

Nobly there, like the ink on this paper.

Water pours on our ponds of memory,

It whirls, leaps, falls, rises with resolve.

Found in our dreams, fluid and sensory,

Then when you wake up the moment dissolves.

Ice- loathsome and brutal, the unpleasant freeze.

The crowds agree our dense foe is the cold.

The thirty-three degree frosts are a tease,

Worse- subzero chills, menacingly bold.

Three phases- universal, colorless.

Amounts to space and thoughts to decompress.