The three old maids walked
Through the hazy thoroughfare
Baskets of fruit in their hands
Blind to the urchins that circled their feet
Stealing away what they can
The maids had less trouble
The further they walked
Unaware of the energy
They had in stock
Like the baskets weighed nothing
Their arms were so free
The young men looked twice
As their age slipped away
The phantom of youth
A return to their prime
Then Mrs. Dolores
Was aware of the crime
“Let’s teach ’em a lesson,”
All knuckles were cracked
These three young old ladies
Got their damn fruit back
A Life in Poems 