A Lesson Before Breakfast
At Lynx Creek Café to eat
I got antsy waiting in my seat,
So Gramma took me by the hand
“To look at things—understand?”
I shook my head, a “yes” did mutter
But that was ‘fore I eyed the shutter.
The birdhouse windows were framed by boards
That I tried to close—Gramma’s words ignored.
Now a tiny piece laid on the shelf,
I looked—no one saw—just myself.
I quickly pushed the piece from sight
Then Gramma saw—“You must do what’s right.”
Pointing she said, “See the man over there,
With the big mustache and graying hair?”
Up to the counter with birdhouse in tow
Together we went, my head hanging low.
I gave him the piece I had wanted to hide,
He looked over the damage and faintly sighed.
“I’m sorry,” I thought, but the words didn’t come
I just stared at the floor looking dumb.
So Gramma spoke when I turned mute—
I knew she didn’t think me cute.
He kindly smiled and said some glue
Would fix it up just like new.
Not an angry word did he say,
A lesson in forgiveness I learned that day.
“Wasn’t he nice?” Gramma said.
With dancing eyes, I shook my head.
She gently smiled so I said I wouldn’t
Never again touch when I shouldn’t.
She ruffled my hair, then back to our seats
Just as the waitress was bringin’ our eats.
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