Image by Simon Howden via freedigitalphoto.net
My taxes are a-calling me
but poetry's a-stalling me.
I'll gruntingly swallow the bill
but, Uncle Sam, you make me ill.
You take so very much from me
though I've not won the lottery.
I am hoping my magic quill
finds you already got your fill.
Oh no! My quill pen has flown off!!
Uncle Sam, is that how you scoff?!
© Rachel Hoyt 2011. All rights reserved.
This rhyme is being shared in the Poetry Pantry.
Click on over to read or share poetry there with glee.
Click on over to read or share poetry there with glee.
My NaPoWriMo poem #14
This rhyme was linked in to One Shot Wednesday.
If you're a poet, you should come over to play.
