Wistaria
A Poem by Corset

...and if you could see
how those blooms
hang their heads
after making the move
into empty open spaces

Their bright faces pungently
stretching 'or Mesas
yearning for one
not so tight in after life.

If we could touch the soil
to keep it moist
fears would feed like rain,
crying edible
and they would never die.

Limbs would not crumble
but climb ever high
their backs of bark
carved into
hearts and letters.

Resplendent and warm
the night would know
her poetry.