Present - Poem by Diane Hine
I’m glad you liked the Toby Mug;
it’s nice to know that’s where your dentures slept
but what a shame the handle came unstuck.
It’s kinda funny – your false teeth bit the rug;
no, you’re right – Doulton is inept
and Waldo buried your teeth? – the naughty pup.
That explains the scattered holes sans shrubs
and why the garden looks a bit unkempt.
Your new teeth give you ulcers on the gums?
Let me look inside – I’ll eye the rub
um… d’you want a hug?
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