Answer:
As soft as silk, as white as milk, as bitter as gall, a thick green wall, and a green coat covers me all.
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky. Atop a tender strand, rising from the land, until killed by maiden's hand. Perhaps a token of love, perhaps to say goodbye.
Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies, I scream in celebration, Yet moments later, my outburst through, I am naught but imagination.
Give it food and it will live, give it water and it will die.
Until I am measured I am not known, Yet how you miss me when I have flown.
What is always coming but never arrives?