Sundried Solutions.

If the sky grew bluer in it's lovely illusion,
The white picket fence grew anymore in perfection,
And the roses grew any rosier in their hue of passion,
and your molten brown irises caught any more sparks of shadow light.
The world would explode beyond it's basted seams,
Too  much to hold in the reflection of a slice an hour of daylight.
So much,that the Earth would crave to inhale the fragrance of our presence
Inculcate us into her invisible crevices.
It would perhaps be not for us to seize then-
The day laid out like our souls under the sun,
Soaking up warm musings of the dripping sojurn.
....