There she stood,
oblivious to the world,
Unconscious
of the stones being hurled.
Locked in the stocks
as a common thief,
One small tear, alone,
betrayed her grief
By that tear
the peasant crowd was troubled
And sought to remove it
by stones and oaths redoubled
She had taken
a pittance worth of bread,
A worried mother
seeing that her baby was fed
And now she was
a prisoner in the stocks
A helpless target
held down by chains and locks.
She had lost all
that she had once held dear.
For that, not herself,
She shed that last lonely tear...
Karl Stuart Kline
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/3-2-the-tear-my-first-poem-1966/
