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