It was morning. The sunrise was planting colors on the soil. Before that, it had varnished the floors at the castle of oblivion. The last star grabbed the glass from the sun's hands, in order to prevent the splinters from injuring eyes.
It was noon. By the comma which split your phrase up, I perceived your inclination adhering on the clouds and combing the metal barricades.
A fountain I had build up, a dedication to heavens, saturated the lanes. However, the tap was muffled by the scent of jasmines and lilies. A whole garden for an "I wonder" thrown by the loner from the alley on the other side. Yet, it seemed worthless to the uninformed ones: they mistook it for an orchid! Initiation on a dome of yours, Spring, I discovered. And I covered that WHY with bands from the mass of your joy.
It was afternoon. The sun and the moon, both full, were celebrating the meeting. Now, this summer will leave its reply on the little hand. The bowl of the sky will be refilled. The evening approached, but its darkness would never fall heavily on bodies and eyelashes. And we were lulled again by a vivid revelry, dating back to ages, while at the same time the enraged storm was migrating stirring the waters. It thought nobody was able to hold on. But it got deceived by the will, which now carries back the sunrise on its hands with a smile!