The Red Toothbrush
Your red toothbrush sits still
In my bathroom window cill
Facing south in your direction
A metaphor for our disaffection
Each day the sun goes by
And casts a shadow like a sigh
I sigh for you my sweetest dear
I can’t release myself from fear
That your brush will dry remain
No more to caress a toothy stain
It’s colour lightens each new day
From red to pink it fades away
I’ve not touched it since you went
Spiders live there pay no rent
One two three I count the hairs
I want to kick it down the stairs
It’s all remains of what we shared
When this has gone I’ll be spared
Fantasy sometimes takes a cue
Science fiction does come true
On the brush I have in fact
A copy of your dna in tact
In future years I could renew
A copy of my love for you
poem by Gerard Heathcote
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