The Nature of My Death

When o’er me twilight takes its final flight
And aged cherries turn to naught but ash
The citrus sun turns into rotten night;
An acrid dark that binds you like a sash.

When decomposing matter’s all that’s left
Remember me as apples fleeced with snow
Vanilla-sugar tears fell as I wept
Light tracks left in the cinnamon-flecked dough.

When all my kindling has turned to dust
And final spicy embers start to fade
Recall the rivers of merlot, tinged rust
Though earthworms feast on mangoes in the shade.

Scatter my crumbs into a cool spring breeze
No more will sweet fruit blossom from my tree.