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Dearly Beloved

It was the brightest of evenings, lit only by sky.
I walked amongst hills to feel the breeze.
Suddenly, a dew drop fell from up high.
Its destination brought upon me to freeze.
A mass of impending flowers caught my eye.
Only one of them felt right to sincerely possess.
I pulled ever so gently, as if I were shy,
but it wasn't ready, it needed time to progress.
I respectfully left to return at a later spell
and a horrible surprise lie there at wait.
In that past location, my flower wasn't there to dwell.
So was she too early? Or was I too late?