Fish Out of (Warm) Water
Though I love to walk out on wintry days,
To climb life’s ladder by several rungs;
If I’m not wary, there can be delays,
When the cold wind sucks the air from my lungs.
I fear drowning in a cold sea of air,
On the floor of a bleak ocean of gas.
I shiver and gasp for what isn’t there;
A waking night terror that will not pass.
As my air-starved body silently screams;
I draw even deeper the icy draught,
Whose wicked wintry touch burns to extremes,
My delicate, elegant, frail air shaft.
A breathless fish stranded on frozen shore,
I flail about til I’m inside once more.
What does it feel like when someone with 25% lung capacity comes in contact with UP winter air? It’s not a pleasant experience…