A Little Old Woman

Upon the street corner in silence there stood

A little old woman in cloak and in hood.

Her hands were encased in a muff of pure white,

From her neck hung a tippet which reached the ground quite.

But she was so short and so queer and small,

I had never seen anything like it at all.

And so I crossed over the better to see

Who on earth this little old woman could be.

And when I got there she upward did look,

And so great was my mirth that with laughter I shook.

Her eyes were of blue and her hair was of gold,

And she was just growing on five years old.

Dec. 2, ‘91

Pub. in B. Standard

Junior, June 19, ‘95