The Lilt Before The Wilt ...

The drape of pearls upturned her smile,
And her disappointment was all too tactile;
Even from warblers of high repute,
The notes wobbled, as their muse went mute.

The trees, and their abiders, dripped with despair,
They'd only yearned to spare her his glare;
Having prayed that the clouds may linger,
Now, in forlorn hope, they wished he'd not malinger.

She hadn't wilted, but continued to droop,
When, above, they seemed to reel, the soggy troop;
He peered through a chink, before he did prise
The sodden mass, ridding the skies of their guise.

He rayed to kindle a smile on her face,
Using the one his lips, on her sight, did trace;
It was ominous that she wouldn't long survive,
But, only to survive is not to be alive.