Sky - to murder a kiss

Does the sky know my dreams?
For when my gaze gains focus, I capture the sky,
and so when unfocused, sky captures gaze,
and I see my dreams before me,
and my eyes choose to focus on dreams,
and so ignores sky,
and if my gaze captures dreams,
and my gaze is captured by sky,
does sky capture my dreams?
And if my dreams are captive of the sky,
what intent does the sky have for my dreams?

Sky is sight, sky gives touch through water.
Sky is therefore silent,
we look up to see what the sky offers,
water for our lives and sun for our life,
sky needs no voice.
Save for when sky thunders.

The rose will face up to the sky,
it will look to the sky for it's days.
I will pick the rose that looks to the sky,
the sky will look down upon the rose
as it still looks up, but now to a nose.
I will hand the rose to the hands of another,
one whose hands come with light touch,
but that pinpoint themselves around thorns.
She will look down upon the rose
and put it to her nose.
She will look to me and pay me compliments
of the roses beauty, then face another way.
The rose lasts not,
it will point up to the sky
but face ceiling,
and the rose will wilt.
Meanwhile another rose is in my gaze,
to be taken from gaze of sky.

The kiss is mine,
for the rose is hers that I picked,
and so the kiss she found is mine.
The kiss lets me know,
as it is soft and slow,
that I am loved.
I am loved as the rose is loved,
the fragrant rose, red of rubies,
I love it too.
The rose lasts not, as we face our faces,
and not the sky.
I face her, as she is my dream,
so I look upon a dream,
and my eyes are not focused elsewhere.
But we bloom before we wilt,
and soon the kiss lets me know,
with it being done and fast,
I am wilted.

The sky knew my dreams,
was it the sky that wilted them?
Or was it because we faced only ourselves,
and not sky and sun, that we wilted?
Sky is silent, and to be read.
Save for thunder.
When we were in bloom,
the thunder would frighten me,
save for when I read the sky's lighting in advance.
but I read the lightning only to react
when I heard frightening thunder.

I pick the rose from the field,
I pick it's roots aswell,
and I plant it in my patch,
in view of sky, where it sees it's sun
and feels water's touch.
I live not to see the rose wilt.
It never hears thunder.
In my dreams, I see a rose
that glows with ruby's sparkle,
and it dances with my dream.