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.