Written by: Ajayi Angel-Simon

I didn’t scoff the grub; for pleasure and sanit I scrub. To doff trite piece of food is my calling from the wood When man meets assorted meat, I grieve for the chewing treat. I’m man’s aurora friend. Like the Ultimate man, to the very end I search for decayed morsel particle; to restore man’s fresh breath is my hustle. Cast me away and man’s teeth will hide; his tongue won’t glide – that’s my pride. I’m his quotidian servant-master adorned with creamy butter to evict stinking gums from vocal isle. Never weary, I renew his oral smile.