The death of a yeast cell

Speckles of powdery yellow spots
sink solemnly into the lukewarm deep
drowning like champagne bubbles dying
sucked dry of the will to rise
they lie atop one another
their bodies decomposing
recomposing the solution around them.
The chunks of their flesh wash onto
the crisp'n clear sides of the glass
like beached shells from the wading tide
hidden by the glorious morningside
like a dying message etched
into the condensation from one's last breath,
some signs of temporary permenance
vanishing down the sides of my glass.