TOOTHLESS

I'm sick of soup;
I could just puke.
I have no teeth
With which to eat --
Doc yanked 'em all.
I sit and bawl.
I crave a snack,
Some crunchy food
To soothe my mood.
A chewy sweet
Would be a treat,
But I can't chew.
I'm feeling blue.
A cup of broth,
Some milky froth,
A bowl of soup
Makes my face droop.
My gums are sore.
I want no more
Pea consommé;
It's so blasé.
I'll appreciate
My store-bought plates.
They'll come next week,
Then I can eat.
Of pearly white,
They'll chomp and bite.
I'll chew a steak --
No more partake
OF ANY KIND OF SOUP!

Copyright © 1995 Ruth Gillis

"Toothless" received the Fickle Pickle Award
in the Summer 1999 issue of The Aardvark Adventurer.

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