Back again.
A trial.
A test.
Without a peep,
she slowed her breath.
She left her high horse
blown apart,
its stick figure splintered
the course of her heart.
Under eggs over easy
her patient legs swung.
Tabled elbows angled toward
a steaming mug of coffee black,
a mundane comfort, piping hot.
Salt and pepper, potatoes and eggs
she trusted diner food would
bring her strength.
A form diminished from heavy regret, born
when she opened wide
chests of meanness she had spent,
to keep herself
better than the rest.
Many amends reared
beckoning heads
toward her newly found ethical sense.
She swung her legs, and ate her eggs
and pondered what to address next.
Brenda Warren 2014
Visit The Sunday Whirl
Notes: This week’s words took me in many directions, and wound their way to this piece. The image that I started with was a mental image of a woman eating breakfast, her world changed in an instant. This is a revision far down the road from the original. It kept changing course on me. The woman had something to say.
undercaws 
‘she left her high horse blown apart’, and ‘under eggs over easy’ are just incredible lines.
LikeLike
‘She left her high horse
blown apart’ ~ sometimes we need land to ponder what is there we forgot to process..some regrets – inevitable, but this – our way to learn..~ thoughtful writing, tasty one 🙂
LikeLike
The swing of her legs is echoed in the swing of the words..funny how things can change but keep the same ebb and flow (on the outside at least)
LikeLike
You’ve created a vivid scene here which plucks at all the senses. I could find nothing coherent in this week’s words, but I am in awe of your poem.
LikeLike
This is so.fearful, and thoughtful and very visual. I see her there at the table, thinking, thinking, thinking. . .
BTW I added a word to mine to make the “baker” happy! 😆
LikeLike
For some reason “wonderful” became “so.fearful” on my Kindle. Sorry!
LikeLike
The breakfast is one of my favorites and you have made me hungry, but I’ll let you make amends the next time I’m in Montana…my truck driver father taught me that the best breakfasts are to be found in diners. Odd Thomas would agree, so I keep good company and so do you with vivid details that make your character seeable.
Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2014/02/23/scrambling-on-the-bridge-of-forgiveness/
LikeLike
I love the line “she left her high horse blown apart.” Yum, I want that breakfast.
LikeLike