Conjuring a dreamscape

Red-Orange-Yellow-Green-Blue-Indigo-Violet.
I repeat the words over like a mantra.
Say it twice, that's the charm.
My sibling fidgets at my side.
They are never still, unlike me.
I am poise personified as I rest on the stream bank.
I conjure my surroundings. There's a brooding indigo sky,
yellow-green grass miraculously sunlit despite the clouds,
the red butterfly on the russet scarf, matching auburn hair.
I create one bright orange skirt, another one deep blue.
A scatter of tiny violets flowering by the water's edge.
I decide to make it spring time, fill the field with creatures.
A distant spill of horses and cattle. A donkey. Why not?
I am good at this. My dream landscape is beautiful.
I imagine a squeeze box. I can almost hear it squawking.
My sibling fidgets and chatters away. I ignore them.
I repeat my mantra and two arcs form above.
The hardest part? Imagining the faces of the two girls.
I try to concentrate but more of my siblings fly in.
They're cackling and cawing. The spell is broken.