By The Lake: A Villanelle
Wait for me, I’ll come to thee

Silent she sat, hands in her lap, for her heart’s love yearning, The moon gleamed high, casting silver sighs o’er the glassy lake Wait for me, I’ll come to thee, though clocks and tides cease turning
Her thoughts dreamed on their wedding-night, her modesty unlearning The air grew chill, yet hope shone still; she imagined the life they’d make Silent she sat, hands cold in her lap, for her heart’s love yearning
The moon, so weary, to still waters sank, heaven’s heights spurning Weeping wild, she sought the moon, and release from betrayal’s ache Wait for me, I’ll come to thee, though clocks and tides cease turning
On the hill, he calls her name; runs swift, to his love returning Again he calls; she does not stir, on the cusp of bitter day’s break Silent, she sat, hands pale in her lap, for her heart’s love yearning
He reaches for her, then through her; hears the water’s eerie churning She gazes beyond; by the shore, her shoe — his body in horror doth quake Wait for me, I’ll come to thee, though clocks and tides cease turning
Turns he to the water, longing to be with her; in his mind her image burning He sinks beneath, to where she waits; ripples weep tears in their wake Silent they sit, her hand in his, for their heart’s love yearning Wait for me, I’ll come to thee, though clocks and tides cease turning
© Melissa Coffey 2021
This poem is in response to The POM’s National Poetry Month Prompts for April 5th to write a poem from a selection of forms. I chose the villanelle. Thanks to Jac Harmony & Shalini C for their encouragement & brilliant villanelle examples.
All daily poetry prompts for April can be found here.
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