The patient toothbrush
Sits in its toothbrush holder
For about 23 hours and 50
Minutes of the day.
Sometimes facing the mirror,
Or the floss,
Or the sink.
Patiently waiting to be whisked
Away from its home
To fight plaque,
Pungent breath,
And bacteria.
Weeks of use make your bristles dull
And fray,
But you fight the good fight of dental hygiene
And with toothpaste,
You make the world a fresher,
Less smelly
Place to be.
Although children avoid you
Like cats avoid water,
You try your best to entertain them.
You sing songs of
Justin Bieber,
Hannah Montana,
And Troy Bolton.
You fill the bathroom
With bright, colorful lights,
Like a dental display of fireworks.
Your perseverance, though fruitless,
Is commendable indeed.
Dentists and orthodontists,
They give you away for free.
As if you were not a trophy
Of good health
And clean teeth.
They coat you with strange
Powdered toothpaste
And stuff you in a plastic jail cell.
Only to be retrieved
From a dark, stuffy drawer when
Johnny comes early to his appointment
And his mother tells him to brush.
Your true worth should be known.
How nicely your ergonomic handle,
Seems to fit any hand,
And the fervor with which your bristles
Work, to make grimy mouths clean,
Eradicating cavities,
Brushing away gum diseases,
And obliterating leftover spinach.
Your tongue brusher keeps us from
Contracting halitosis
And disgusting those to whom we speak.
You endure heavy scrubbing,
Hot water,
Cold water,
Endless spouts of loneliness.
Occasional long distance trips,
Inside an oppressively small case.
You stay with us all,
Through thick and thin,
To give us a minty clean mouth,
All through the day.
No comments:
Post a Comment