Where does that key take you?

"Let it be morning."
I said
"Let it be morning where the coffee is hot and the jumper is blue, or maybe grey, depending on the light."
The kisses are soft, and light, and breezy, like the touch of a wing and the hearts are bursting full of words.
Because, words
we need words.
We need extravagance and ink and the sky.
Just let it be gentle and still. Just for a while.
I said
"Can we go swimming?"
In the light. The water is cool and fresh and heavy, but light. Like kisses.
Light yet strong.
Like a breath of fresh air. Like sitting high up on a building and looking out over the city. How far are we looking?
Can we see the horizon?
Can we see ourselves? Sitting so high. All the tiresome calamities of yesterday and tomorrow fall away as I turn my face to the sun and I close my eyes.
Yes.
Look at us posing. The world cannot see us if we tilt our heads and lift our shoulders and smile. The lights and sparkles, how they shine, how they promise.
Can we see yet?
"Can you see?"
Why we sit and dream.
I lift my arms and move like an airplane. Let me capture you. With my bright nails and high-pitched laughter. Let me soar into time and run through puddles, leap over fallen leaves- fall, also.
Let me fall.
Because falling feels like flying and I am already on the ground.
Oh, how it feels!
Like danger and emotion and I turn my head so you do not see me bite into the fairy floss. Like speeding forwards really fast.
Can we rewind?
Or is the past too painful, too wonderful, to relive?
Let's fast-forward to when we grow old. Roots hidden deep inside the ground, down, down, down, spreading and forming and trying something new.
It feels like sinking.
It feels like hanging up the red raincoat and returning to find out it has changed to blue. Pale blue and ice in my heart.
Such a start.
It fell and exploded into a thousand lights, a million stars, a trillion, billion galaxies of colour I wish you saw
you saw
they saw
the whole world shaped as one giant eye, blinking at the hopelessness of touching and breaking. Of breathing.
"Can we run into tomorrow?"
can we try harder?
It's all numerals and apostrophes and flowers opening and bells tinkling, harshly, and jackets and somersaults and pink pjamas and low voices with double meanings.
A breath of fresh air.
Let's be that.
I wave at the postman. The rain feels like an ending
and I think
I think
why can't everything be far away? In the distance, tiny, so you have to lean closer. Why can't everything appear beautiful because nothing is being looked at fully?