Tax - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
He stepped into the gutter to retrieve
a coin of silver, round and light of weight,
and scooped a chunk of dogshit with his sleeve
'twas green, he wondered what the critter musta ate.
Life often takes without a mention a small toll,
it gives no change and no receipt for us to save,
it seems that tax collectors must be on patrol
you may stand up to them, a member of the brave.
Comments about Tax by Herbert Nehrlich
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