A Little In The Morning

As I watch you sleep
I hold myself
And weep,
My lovely child
As I watch you
my thoughts
Roam wild,
What will be
Your fate?
What shall you eat
When you wake?
Shall I fill your belly
With songs?
Will these stones
Be bread?
There is nothing
To eat
Not a crumb
Not a slice
Not a grain
My child,
I cannot bear
To see you wake up
Hungrier than you slept
Instead I will
Veil my face
And take to the streets
Maybe
There will be
A little in the morning.

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For The Love Of It

They think I am here for money
For the fleeting lure
Of riches.
They have heard tales of many,
The orphaned girl,
The stranded wife,
Many such tales
Women use
To explain their plight,
But few
Have met a worker
Like me,
I was born for this
The way baby eagles are born to fly
My entire youth was preparation
To please men
Ease men
Of their frustrations.
I am no desperado
I am a maestro
So spare me your
Pity and your contempt
Keep them
For your soul
For in the end I will be doing what I love to while
You
Will be slaving for a pittance at a rich man’s dream
Fair trade it seems.