My Rose -- poem

Petals are calling
tracing fingertips over
the surface at
the same time
touching clouds and
velvet nights in
waiting
it heaves then
shrinks
wanting attention or
someone
to dive onto its
luxury
going gently
caressing the air
knowing not to disturb
what supple particles
hold this together
giving warmth and
unbelievable comfort
what a dwelling to behold
to dream in
cushioning my hopes and
kindling my burn
so softly
powerful
gravity changes
horizontal pulling until
I fall being held,
kept and
lose myself in
silky arms