Evelyn Judy Buehler

March 18, 1953 - Chicago
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Music to My Eyes

I was a passionate, aspiring musician, striving quite hard to be a success;
As nature lovers try hard to succeed, at living where pretty flowers press.

Rosy days teemed with activity and planning, bold plans of runaway hours,
When striving, I failed to see all the sights, along paths of red sunflowers.

Many friends were musicians too, all of us eager, for soon days of triumph,
When we would stun like jubilant night, adorned in pearls and diamonds!

My family ever buoyed me up, as they wished for me my wildest dreams,
Like utter wildness, of noon and midnight roses, of gold and sable scenes.

I lived in a house of hush colors, as the sun slowly glided by my windows,
Leaving warm memories of vivid day, and also of pink, evening primrose.

Queen butterfly ruled in the garden, and dapper robin was dressed in red;
And innumerable birds sang lullabies, each night before we retired to bed.

June moon scattered silver nocturnally, on the satin, black flower of night,
As the intense, noon sun spreads citrine gems, to everything in our sight.

One evening, I was practicing at home, which I was frequently wont to do,
When the sad music abruptly made me see, pretty hues of violet and blue!

'What could be occurring,' I thought, 'for colors of music had come calling?'
Like the magic of mellow autumn, when the colored, crisp leaves go falling!

Fascinated, I kept on playing, but the next melody was a lusty, happy tune;
And in the air, lustered shades of jade and scarlet, like sunset eves in June.

Reflective music brought on hues of dusty rose, burnt orange and burgundy,
Like old stories of fairytale magic, in huge, enchanted castle, by roiling sea.

Wild music was multicolored, with hues swirling into most stunning shapes;
As vibrant, seasonal colors of nature, prompt their bold entries and escapes!

The strange, new ability stayed with me, and I still relish the sight of sound,
As a tranquil night enjoys fragrant flowers, when there's not a soul around.

Now I love nights at the opera more, when prevalent hues tell a true story,
Like a bittersweet story of evening skies, when lavish sun sets like a cherry.

No one knows of my natural ability, the ability to watch sweet music dance,
That emerged later in life, like stars and moon, in May-December romance!

But, secrets are sometimes good to keep, especially those that hurt no one,
Like the pretty secrets of vivid rainbows, lost in a glare of the noonday sun.

The colors affected my music greatly, and at long last, my music triumphed,
As spring comes strewing lively hues, in a place where snows lately clumped!
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