Love has a dawn

The death of a flower.

Weeping at the sight of dawn,
Warmth and all its splendor,
The sun lights the wilting.
Burning, dying, so it passes.
Leaves this world of
Sorrow and love,
Never to be a sign of truth,
Never to receive.

Unmarking of its passage.
Do you not care?
Truest beauty departed this world,
Unseen, yet still there.
We continue, without regret.
Who are we to question,
The death of this flower?