Loyal Folly

Buried
The spade tastes gravel
Once more
Bitter in routine taste
The corpse alights
In words disgraced
Descend to shallow grave
The shovels left
To stand the mast
Steadfast, she waits
Beauty is her curve
Caress and best
She digs in haste
Loyal folly
Not once replaced
And crimson her blade
Tells tales, betrayal
Blank lovers face
To master: devotion
Her use: corrosion
And locked in shed
She muses, thinks,
And love grows
For all she knows
To taste the dirt
Her love bequests
And then incite, invite,
He limps to sight
And dragged along
In trance, in tow,
She feels him cold
fresh dirt tastes old
He shakes, in task
His fear is masked
No corpse he brings
And shaking shes lifted,
Her use has shifted
And down she cries
Scream, tears,
Assails the skies
She weeps, he falls
The grave is his,
Her love is gone,
Murderess, guilty,
Besotted spade
Falls down beside
She stubbornly stays
Loyal to the end
In unspoken tears
The weather wears
And rusts her end,
Pained spade transcend,
And to death shes owed
Due tears, explode
As heaven grants her eyes
And a place by his side
Buried
Once more
The corpse alights,
Steadfast, she waits,
The loyal folly. . .