Love Is A Toothbrush Poem by Leon Agnew

Love, in essence,
Is like a toothbrush.
We use it a lot,
And it grows weary.
It takes time,
But is inevitable.
When seen at first,
It may cause disgust.
It takes a versatile mind,
To comprehend its beauty.

Sometimes it languishes,
Disenegrates, loses worth,
In dark places,
And cold hands,
Where mindless heathens,
Wandering day and night,
Do rape and terrorize,
And in darkness,
We cannot find it,
Though seeking it verily.

What is the toothbrush?
It is a symbol,
That when teeth are dirty,
The heart is sick,
With diseases,
That are fatal to it.
So we must keep it well,
And brush our teeth,
Administer it regularly,
And keep well our hearts.

Love, in essence,
Is like a toothbrush.
It starts out nice and fresh.
But soon becomes monotony.
Why bother?
For love cannot exist in man,
Nor can it in God.
What horrid place are we in?
Without love, without life,
Without body, without mind.