Evelyn House

I dreamed I was dreaming one evening as I lay in a garden with flowers thriving In an old back yard I played in a mystical mood In the dream I dreamed I was near an old house The vivaciousness of a scent~ oh yes! I followed me even here where I truly was receiving A feeling of love with such divine peace was in the air, Oh yes! The pool in its blueness The birds singing, and the trees dancing to the beat of a soft breeze Yet~ I thought in the dream that the place was all barren of its beauty It bellowed out to me to come back It only seemed; and the old place once left was filled with uncaring noises and its tender lovely caring was lost For many a gardener had testified how all who watched her were enchanted, And wondered in search For the garden stood without her planting All the flowers were dead, and the buds drooped to brown in the stead of their singing But the roses bloom no more on the graves of the doomed Just where she went is not known I thought in my dream, oh that powerful tale A memory that I for one cherished That the fragrance loading in the conscious vale Was a ghost of a gal long perished I said, “I will build from this garden and magnify” And acting on that idiom By weeds overflowing and not a single flower I was lead to the Tower For was truly, as truly, a new beginning I ran in my crazed way, to seek out the place Of the new old house and its new garden, directed by some supernatural sinister force to a forest of tall grass and haunted, and infected weeds stood tall. And still as I planted~ it was all in the dream that I dreamed I was dreaming each turning There were many a holler and a sudden gleam of eyes they stood and watched her new beginning The leaves were all wet with a horrifying brown that mirrored the hard moon’s labor And all smells were touched with its aroma with morning sunshine And freshness of a new plant But the fragrance divine, coming strong and reaching some genus of freedom led her on, though her heart was bearing Till` ah, the beauty! I could see on the limbs of a tree There set her beauty Midnighthours the old memories came hard and fast The scent of the roses left behind And the fading memories of the once loved old house, The Evelyn house. The Evelyn home is where I first met myself. I bought it and it was the first time living alone. I left it for a time and this is when I wrote the poem. Copyright Pattimari