TOOTH BRUSH

            TOOTH BRUSH (A poem)

I didn’t scoff the grub;
for pleasure and sanitary I scrub.
To doff trite piece of food
is my calling from the wood

When man meets assorted meat,
I grieve for the chewing treat.
I’m man’s aurora friend.
Like the Ultimate man, to the very end
I search for decayed morsel particle;
to restore man’s fresh breath is my hustle.

Cast me away and man’s teeth will hide;
his tongue won’t glide – that’s my pride.
I’m his quotidian servant-master
adorned with creamy butter
to evict stinking gums from vocal isle.
Never weary, I renew his oral smile.

 

© Ajayi Angel-Simon 2013