The Love of The Morning Glory (haiku)

A demure flower
She only unveils her face
To the morning sun

She sings his glory
In every morning she wakes
To his tender kiss

She opens herself
Unfurling her white petals
To  his warm bright  eyes

She basks in his warmth
Revelling in his brilliance
As she smiles at him

She folds her petals
When his height reach the heavens
Away from her sight

When his temper rise
He becomes the midday sun
She closes her eyes

Afraid to get burned
By his blazing warmth and light
And so she remains

His morning glory
Who lives for him each morning
And dies every night