Tax Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Tax
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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 7:09:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
