Don't make eye contact as she motors on her way
with her hands on her stroller through another bad day.
Her hair is clean and flies in the boulevard breeze of
vehicles that speed by with hardly a care, an indifferent disease.

She tastes the cigarette smoked, she doesn't want another
as she looks down at her children, sister and brother.
If they only knew they were all on their own,
he finally left after the love she had shown.

Her jaw was set against the cold, she was 32 and just felt old,
She leaned into the trek she had along way to go,
Two kids in front and a back pack as cargo and away she went,
Walking is all she had and no where to go, he didn't pay the rent.