Leaving Me

The shine came off of her back that day under the magnolia tree She sprawled her arms like tree sized roots and swayed with the swaying breeze It was always her choice of blossoms that seemed to bruise to the delicate touch It was always on the day she was about to die that she wanted to live so much She sank from luxurious apple green into chameleon red as I drew her a picture of spring time and the resurrection of the dead The snow fell sweet on the tree that year in a vision of rains to come as I sparked a match and drew her breath in the winter's fallen sun.