Scraping, scraping off the plaque
With that sharp, pointy tool.
Glad this paper bib and suction tube
Will catch my drool.

A cavity? You say,
And stick a needle in my gum
So when the drill starts
My mouth will be numb.

When it’s over,
I get toothbrush, floss and paste.
As I exit, I can only feel
Half of my face.

I wrote this poem while in the waiting room, waiting on my son at the dentist’s office.