The Boy Poem by Joe Hughes

(An Armagh City Hotel Experience)

Sullen-faced he sits,
Alone at a three-generation family meal.
They sip their Rose, their beers -
He sips at sadness.
Their chat is endless
But no one talks to him.
He fiddles with his Dinky toy.
They fiddle with his life.
Eyes downcast, so unhappy.
I catch his eye, hoping to engage him.
His mother sees me - we smile.
Gently I ask if he's okay?
She answers yes but I know differently.
Father arrives.
The boy is teased.
Reacting like a flinching dog
Half expecting a slap.
He is bought a tub of crisps.
Sour cream with chives
But I taste his sourness.
He nervously nibbles at his crisps.
There is no enjoyment, no excitement.
He doesn't offer them round.
He's learned not to share.
He is not shared.
The chat continues, grandad smiles.
They all smile.
I wish I was elsewhere!
I finish my steak.
The boy moves - stakes a claim with his granny.
A moment of contact - promise?
But then he returns to his place.
Tucked in at the end of the table.
Removed, unobtrusive, alone!