Untaxed Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

Didn’t I hear you say the lawn I would mow?
Sundays come and Sundays go.

Grasses are taller so are the weed
Season is going where’s the flower seed?

Words aren’t taxed you use them free
Said this Sunday you would clean the chimney.

Wash the toilet scrub clean the commode
Sundays come piles up workload.

Lot of things to mend lots to replace
Why Sundays trudge in leisurely pace?

Why the bed conspires the morn breathes chill
Why must I lie back to get the Sunday feel?

Why Sunday is one day and not a whole week
Comes up the Monday devilish and bleak!

Sundays will come and Sundays will go
As for my work only a poem or two to show!