The Dentist

I brush my teeth twice a day,
to keep the dentist drill at bay. 
But now I find I’m one tooth less,
a vacant space – to brush past, I guess.

A root canal started this whole thing,
pain in my mouth, a tingle, a sting. 
Routine they said, it won’t take much,
six visits later and it’s still sore to the touch.

Six visits! I cry, you are draining my life, 
I plead for soup from my long suffering wife. 
I’m not a good patient, I just want it done,
pull the damn thing out, but make sure I’m numb.

Now here I am with a hole in my chops,
the canal was a failure, a complete flop.
It had to be pulled, despite a good try, 
it cracked down the middle, goodbye tooth, goodbye.

What an ordeal, what a big mess,
I look after my teeth, I sure do my best. 
But sometimes the buggers just won’t play fair, 
and I hear him beckon me to the big white chair.

Mr Jones, he winks, with a pearly white grin,
please take a seat, let us begin.

Written by Emma L Beal