Evelyn Judy Buehler

March 18, 1953 - Chicago
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Architect of Life

I was an active, prominent architect, like fervent stars which race the sun,
Or exotic, summer flowers that bloom vibrantly, creating rapturous visions.

I'd wrought modernist skyscrapers, as huge trees lean into a bronze glaze,
On raspberry, latter days, quite lovely, when azure blue jays sing in praise.

I had designed homes and buildings, to the plumb delight of stylish people,
While satisfying the favorable environment, with novel, vivid colors, gleeful.

I had built homes for family members, the loved ones who made life sunlit,
Like magnificent avenues of autumn, wherein we bask before all colors flit.

Happily, my works were very popular, as current sweet songs of ruby birds,
At the purple, sunset time of fading skies, when lilac time flows backwards.

I dwelled in the house of the whimsical new, admired by casual passersby,
As clouds and gemmed landscapes are admired, by visitors to neon skies.

Neighbors wafted through visual colors, as rouge moon visits newborn sun,
Like hours spent visiting gaiety's garden, waiting for something to happen.

Torrid summer was in the cherry sunset, and green birds owned coral day,
And pink butterflies flew by the window, as gilt, molten time slipped away.

Juicy apricots were beginning to ripen, with their tangy, sweet savor of July,
When I saw several of my creations come to life, on the street, walking by.

I laughed to see the sudden swaying, to graceful, fluted music of the wind,
Like the smiling time of the evening, when seeing sun and moonlight blend.

They moved proudly upon the skyline, playfully frolicking, hues shimmering,
Like the earliest break of antique day, when newest truths start glimmering.

Mellow sunshine fell straight through the clouds, as the dancing slowly died,
Like the last day that a rainbow was glimpsed, on the day that nature cried.

And I had sensations of blind wonder, like the starry-eyed, dreaming night,
When the mighty ocean bellows its roar, in huge, full moon's powdery light.

I realized my buildings were alive, because of the people who dwelt there,
For people lent them color and spirit, as a medallion sun makes floral flair.

But they never again danced in daylight, nor in the sudden, purple twilight,
Yet, the rosy memory has never faded, like vibrant memories of moonlight!
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