Breakfast At A Cafe

Breakfast At a Cafe

A young boy in a café booth
Between his mother and father.
Short hair revealing a jagged scar
From an ear to the crown of his head.

One hand stabbing at eggs and bacon
The other tracing the wound;
His eyes witness his reflection
In the window near his seat.

He hoped that none could see him
Or the shame of what he felt.
He saw me look and slid his hand
to the safety of his lap,

then turned timidly to the window
and smiled at me in the reflection.