Mystery Pies

Mystery Pies Every day the thin old lady comes crying from the bakery “Hot pies!” ‘Hot fresh pies!” With a young wide smile on the cobble stone streets Her wagon filled with savory treats of saffron pumpkin pies Assorted aromas rise to the horizon as she hobbles down the road There is always a surprise, a mystery or two Children throw their pennies and beg for clues The old woman bakes a different kind of pie each day To add to her selections on the cart Today is Sunday so she baked a special prayer like pie It has a sinful cinnamon chocolate crust with cherries inside This reminds the town folk to be pure, to think about virginity. Don’t ask me why I’m not from this vicinity Created on 10/08/14 for Plentitude Of Pies – Poetry Contest