'Loves Labourer Lost'

Her head bowed low and wracked with shame
within  unhallowed ground.
A silent prayer through bitter lips escaped in hissing mockery.
Eyes cast to earth, unwilling to meet the gazes of  proud men.
This mans name, known, now blown, like dust  to
flights of no avail or salvation.
A soul with no intent to harm, but worked a mighty day.
Hard labourers hands too calloused to touch a silken skin,
yet ploughed the land lovingly.
Till nightfall came, then stirred the notions of failure.
The loss of work and pride, and all that made him whole.
Too great a loss, too shameful to see his childrens hungry eyes.
Too wracked to ever see a future, with him again at the helm.
The cold early morning mist, rising slowly over the dew bejewelled grass.
The solitary oak, majestic with its umbrous leaves and taunting permanence.
His final  days work, a coarse length of rope to hasten his demise..
Then shame no more…..
But for her?......for her?
Head bowed with bitter tears and angry silent words,
spoken only in her heart, as she crosses to the north side and says
farewell forever to her loved, but  lost, hero.