lines, dots, and words

The cold drifts in, I can feel it in my breath. Sprawled across the floor in this box is an idea--withering away quickly like weathered sand. It has some form, but not to where I can grasp it to keep it from de-materializing. I've got it now! I'll give this abstraction a name--but what? Something unusual, memorable, yet comprehensible. Drats! Where did it go? It was here a second ago.