Field of Burefly Bells

Sat in the sun the other day,
Breeze ruffling hair on skin,
Heat on face,
Eyes shut,
Against the bright white.

Only to bring forth a canvas of swarthy colours.
There was old mauve, yellowrange,
deep blue, dead red and burnt earth.

And I marvelled at the swirling patterns,
and chased the fiery infernos to the horizon.
Walking along the edges, so I thought,
Only to turn my gaze to new raging hells.
Finally, from the sheer searing exertion
tears began to well around my eyes.

Then in my full gaze,
A field of filmic butterflies arose,
Shimmering rainbows in a stately hover,
cool, wet and inviting.

And resisting no more I dove and swum,
In and amongst their dewy wings.
Soaring refreshed amongst the many colours.
And the trilling of bells of all shapes and sizes,
rose and fell around me in a shower of glittering scales.

I was in heaven for that but brief moment..
That reverie..
That spell.

Then rudely woken with a jar and a start..
By that little daughter mine,
Whose twinkly eyes I caught.

There's beauty and then there's beauty my darling love,
And no field of burefly bells,
could compare against that cheeky twinkly smile.