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Monday, 23 February 2015

My toothbrush: A love poem

My spare toothbrush isn't well.

Each morning it complains--
It's been bitten by wanderlust, it claims.
And at other times -- it doesn't feel at home!

Last night I couldn't sleep at all;
its incessant moans and longings haunted me.
This morning it shyly told me the truth:
It longs to stand beside your brush,
in your bathroom cabinet.