Among The Wisteria Vines Is Where I Felt Most Alive

For my mother... Rest in peace, as I do now.

To the finer dwellings and on,

  in search of a dream, or an illusion that would suffice

(to grander themes; larger Magnolia Trees;

  better tiling, perhaps, since one collapsed,

nearly killing me; but you saved me in my sleep).

  We traveled there together and alone.

But how much, in wanting, did we ultimately sacrifice;

  when, in truth, only one place ever felt like home?…

                    To me,

                        at least.

I know I fought it, same as I fought you--

  all my life, in fact.

But now, some old voice echoes on, and has brought truth:

  this place and I have an unspoken pact.

Maybe, it was just the tears I cried,

  throughout all of those years,

that hid the truth from my sight…

  But I am home now,

and even though I am alone, somehow,

  among these Wisteria vines,

I have never felt so alive.

                    Never, in all my life.

So, you can take our finer things;

  and you can take them on…

Take the Maître d's,

  and my Mercedes keys.

Mister, I will survive…

  Just let me hear a song;

but not a musician’s song…

  Just let me hear how the weak wood sighs,

here among these vines.

      Let them sing to me,

          among these ancient vines.

I am in a city shade today.

  This park is nice, and kids are at play.

But it’s just not the same

  as the shade that draws its drapes

(round-about a mid-day)

  across that rusted old Accord.

And if I need any reason to hurt today,

  it is because I miss home, more and more

                    everyday.

                     Oh! I miss it, Lord.

Maybe, it was just the pain in my eyes,

  I carried throughout all of those years

that hid this truth from my sight…

  But I feel at home now,

and even though I am alone, somehow,

  among these Wisteria vines,

I have never felt so alive.

                    Never, in all my life.

Reviews

[Gee]

I think Coyote said it all, tis another fine write in memory of your mother.
If I were sitting here drinking Is toast her memory with a wee dram, as I'm not it will have to be coffee......cheers, to yours and all mothers :)

[Louis McKraker]

Thanks, Gee. Coffee works. Since I'm still at my breakfast tea, I'll toast to this.
Cheers! my friend.

[Delmar Cooper]

What is "better tiling"? And, why don't I know this? I do also have Alabama origins and have the metal porch glider to prove it.

[Louis McKraker]

Awesome, Delmar. I don't have a porch glider but I have a porch swing if that counts.

[Coyote Poetry]

This is poetry.
"among these Wisteria vines,
I have never felt so alive.
Never, in all my life."
I loved the story in the poem and the perfect ending above. Thank you Louis for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[Louis McKraker]

Thank you very much, Coyote.
I hope all is well with you and yours, my friend.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome Louis. I am fine and I hope are doing well.