Basking in the garden

In arbors high, where songbirds rest, a drape of purple takes its crest,
A waterfall of wisteria, in fragrant bloom, an aria.
Its clusters hang with languid grace,
A perfumed dream, which time can't chase.

It whispers tales in lilac hues,
Of ancient gardens, morning dews,
Its vines, like tendrils, softly twine,
Around the oak, in love's design.

With every breeze, it sways and sighs,
A living tapestry that vies
For gazes long, for hearts ensnared,
In wisteria's beauty, unimpaired.