Twenty-Four

A man can work three shifts of eight, Then time will take its toll, The money earned may seem just great, Yet he can't keep the whole… The Taxman's waiting patiently, With smirks as well as smiles… Because each worker pays a fee And can't avoid such trials… I used to work three shifts of eight, Yet then I realised There was no cause to celebrate, For rest's more highly prized… So overtime I then refused… I chose to stay at home… Enough to know I was amused Writing another poem… Denis Martindale February 2020.