She Always Caught Red Handed

I was little - might be six or seven,

Powdered milk is what liked to be eaten,

My sister also liked powdered milk like me,

We always waited for our mother to go out and let us free.

Our mission always started when she was out,

Our objective was to dodge their doubts.

Slowly and silently our mission would start,

For which a chair has to take part.

Climbing our dedicated ladder, I reached the can;

One spoon each, then we ran.

An hour after mother would come back,

Frightened we were if she would have bought milk powder sack.

Successfully we managed our fear to hide,

We would feel relaxed when she sat by our side.

Quietly she will ask how many spoons did you take,

I found the milk can has fallen from the rake.

This was not new that we were caught red-handed by her,

How clueless our thievery may be, the verdict is always there.

She will always let us take an oath,

Thievery will not be done by us both.