A Sunset Eulogy

Trees seldom sing the songs of dying men, but the clouds will never forget.                                                            And the harsh winds turn zephyr, a symphony of eternal lament.
An expanse of sea so wide and bright, constellations lead those who have lost their way,                                  set to show and shine like clockwork,
forgotten quickly as the dawn light shines upon the coming day. 
With light comes a fractured wistfulness, from those who have something to prove,                                           while the cover of night-time starlight hides those who have everything to lose.
Cityscapes are tinted orange when on the cusp of sunrise,                                                                                        and only the fern bush weeps upon hearing the world's mournful cries.
It's the lost who whistle to summon the wind, getting no reply for it has nothing to say.                                      And still, it’s the wind that swirls in sorrow, sending rogue dandelion seeds astray.