Only as Much as I Remember

A horse

was always there.

By the stone wall.

Beside the thatched house.

As if it had been there

since before I was born.

When the field was plowed

it walked alongside;

when a child cried

it turned its head to look;

when it rained

it stood under the same eaves.

Not once

did I hold it.

Not once

did I call it by a name.

I saw it so often

I did not know I was seeing it.

And yet

when I tried to paint it

my hand slowed.

I made the line of its back

a little darker.

The line grew clear,

but the horse grew strange.

I took away some color.

The horse's back

blurred into the ground.

Thinking it had vanished,

I went close to look.

It was there.

Only as much as I remembered.

Before it,

I slowly caught my breath.