A late response for the Sunday Whirl’s wordle #362. Shared with DVerse, open link night. Read other poems here.
The heart is a lake, surrounded by pines
it yearns, it knows not how to pass the time
until it sees your face again in person.
There are signs of your presence, pictures —
but you are gone on a trip from which
you cannot return, nor bring back a gift.
The heart wishes to travel too, to wherever you are,
but here it must stay, under a hand-sewn quilt,
at the bottom of a staircase, in a drafty cabin
near a deep lake, surrounded by pines.
revivedwriter 
Oh, no. This is so sad. 😦
Such an incredible poem. The heart as a lake is a perfect image.
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What a lovely poem to end this prompt with! Thanks so much for posting. Love the full circle we make by the lake surrounded by pines. There is a sense of warmth with the hand-sewn quilt, even in a drafty cabin. Perhaps drafty with memories?
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I like these lines: “it knows not how to pass the time
until it sees your face again in person” Nice description of the sorrow of longing for someone.
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Such places are perfect I think… and sometimes we find them
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This is lovely
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