Evelyn Judy Buehler

March 18, 1953 - Chicago
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A Novel Idea

I was an avid, lifelong book lover, and I could read forever and a day,
Like the pleasing, scented lilacs, always and forever blooming in May.

Though my house was very disorganized, I would read where I could,
Because I was not the tidiest person, however life was still very good!

All those who really knew me, understood how much I loved reading,
As loving eyes turn westward each evening, to sun's motley receding.

I dwelt in a house, on 20 acres of land, that had several outbuildings.
Although I was no farmer, I still craved peaceful, lovely surroundings.

My home was cozy and beautiful, but the outbuildings needed repair,
As the sequined stars, of cloudy nights, have to hide away in despair!

I was always losing my things, as I would neglect to put things away,
And I wished I had organizing skills, like blooms when wind's at play.

While beloved old summer tunes played, and sun shone gold on green,
The birds glided on admiral blue skies, as burgundy butterflies teemed.

My birthday was fast approaching, towards the middle of that season,
When the moon pours out pearly light all night, as if it were a beacon.

Pink dragonflies were in the yarrow, and night was full of cricket calls,
Like the happy laughter of many children, echoing through vast halls.

I was reading every chance I got, only in a different place every time,
Like the haphazard movements of the butterflies, at sleepy noontime.

One day I looked for a favorite book, and I could not find it anywhere,
Like a wind that scours the whole wide world, fluffing blooms and hair.

I finally gave it up in frustration, for I had stacks of books everywhere,
Like throngs of happy people, coming and going, every day at the fair.

But the mystery did not end there, as my books continued to disappear,
Like silver dewdrops on the grasses, as the red-orange sun draws near!

Although confused by these strange events, I went on with daily living,
As sun reaches the end of butterscotch day, with a final burst of giving.

I was taking a walk one day, when I thought I saw someone far away,
But, I decided it must've been a deer, for who'd be on my land anyway?

The day before my birthday arrived, and my mood was midnight blue,
For it seemed only I had remembered, as red rose unseen, loses value.

No happy birthday plans were made, and not one single call of greeting,
Like the mute beauty of garden walls, where trumpet vines are creeping.

Swiftly came the noontime on my birthday, rich amber and middle aged,
And my best friend rang my doorbell, saying my buildings were pillaged!

She seemed so upset and agitated, I feared the damage must be great,
Like the dread of a long lasting drought, with no dim clouds to moderate.

When we finally reached the structures, they didn't look damaged at all,
And one of them was fully renovated, like Cinderella's magic at the ball.

As I entered my splendid new library, thanking God for the ones I loved,
Abuzz, I found them all inside, like velvet night, in pearl stars smudged!
215 Total read