Tax Time Friend

The year I wrote this poem was the first but not last time I used a CPA at tax time.

Who is this I see

Flopped flat upon the floor?

Can’t take it any more

Papers scattered all around

Once neat files that can’t be found

Pencils broken, erasers chewed

Coffee gone, no speck of food

What poor creature can this be?

Was it only yesterday

Your bloodshot eyes and quivering lips

Smugly offered other folks tips?

“Just organize well in advance

Leave no detail to chance

Procrastinate, never

Calm and confident ever.”

“Are those the words I heard you say?”

Sweat dripped from her fair brow

“I opened up the tax form book

And took an extra careful look

Then I could only scream, not speak

A pixie put my instructions in Greek

So here I lie

I’m about to die

I need a dose of your know-how!”

“My friend, I can’t resist teasing you

But I speak Greek, I’m a CPA

Who’s survived many a tax time day

I heard you yelp

I’m here to help

Did you really think I’d let you down?

I’d rather have you smile than frown

I’ll handle the Infernal Revenue.”

I turned on my trusty computer once more

Filled out that old Form 1040

Assembled schedules B, D, and E

Cleaned up her mess

Now have to confess

My glee that she’s not to be dunned

‘Cause I plan to help her spend her refund

Why, what are friends for?

Virginia Wylie

Virginia resides in Brookdale Orange City, Florida and is the author of the poetry that appears here. The views and opinions expressed in this poetry are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Brookdale Senior Living.


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