the color that shant be named

A popsicle of cherry , it's not as stationary as a sign that wants you to put on the brakes.I feel it in my nose , rose pedals in between my toes..we are the perceivers , and we must be careful. This signal can burn your tongue, it flys on a wing, and turns your skin a new shade when stung.In nature it is transient because the sky can take it on, when we see it on the horizon. It's big heart of love filled with candy for some, for me it welcomes and dares and drums up new suns.It is in my head. I am not at all dead. It is in the summer that I feel it's coldness and it's warmth in a bed. a bed of molten lava far away, I want to run but instead i stay to spray my territory in the shed. for the color and the hue is not white or blue....the color that shant be named.