Oh phantom head, why dost thou torment me.
Leaking water upon mine bent knee.
I carefully drill,
And I lovingly fill,
Yet thou shame me, and oh so intently

‘Twas September when we first conversed;
With excitement, I dove in headfirst.
Having named you Kirk,
I got straight to work,
And within a minute my foot was submersed.

‘Twas March when we went to war,
Packing amalgam in that upper jaw.
Being a trooper,
I called to the tutor,
By which time it was all over the floor.

For a year you have been unwilling,
To allow me to perfect my drilling.
But trying to peek,
Through inflexible cheeks,
Made the finish line oh so fulfilling. 

Bhavina Bhudia