the bruised face <br />with chaptered eyes, <br />you change the baby.... <br /> <br />coffee, no breakfast. <br />pick up the bottles, <br />empty the ashtrays.... <br /> <br />brush your hair, <br />try to hide <br />the telling color.... <br /> <br />and off to work. <br />9.50 an hour, <br />amid the whispers.... <br /> <br />to you, love is a battlefield, <br />a baby's cry, ... and tears <br />you dont have time for.<br /><br />Eric Cockrell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tears-you-dont-have-time-for/
