Professions

A barber would eye that wig on the judge
With itchy fingers, and an urge to trim.
He wouldn’t cut it with malice or grudge
But to save himself from becoming a crim.

He’d committed the crime, of that there’s no doubt.
He’d stolen flowers from the florist to give to his girl.
But to show remorse his skill he would flout,
And the wig he would straighten, get rid of the curl.

Prompt: a poem about these professions: judge, florist, barber.