Winters Last Apple

As the world's dimming-dimensions Grew dimmer and hurriedly, darker. I saw a thing crimson as it sweetens; Temptations apple waxing—brighter The hour the date I don't remember It might have been in mid-November. Ah, immortality, naked on a branch? Suspends heavenly that rotting heart Whose flesh now weighs heavily blanch. In time, I guess it would also depart Those lowly branches in which it hung Static with pleasure and joy as it clung. In red-shimmering shades of autumn A spool of leaf's claret red, autumnal-gold Spun wreaths around the trees serfdom. Whilst a pungent canker of air cajoled. About; the glassy shell, both yoke and balm. I watched—daily, until this last aplomb. Fell burning like a midnight sun. Sweet in my eyes, this golden affair That even starlings didn't dare, thrum. With feathered wings or tongue fanfare From humble beginnings, a sanctum; A bauble held aloft, the eyes of Satan.