whistling down the wind

Though her jesses were my dear heart-strings, I'ld whistle her off, and let her down the wind,

I made a promise today to forget you
forget the inventory of the things about you I have kept stocked for too long
the way you hunch over peering out into the dark road at the wheel
the way you hold your pen, half loose, tilting at a wide angle, as if
the lines they form on paper came straight out of a fine line between the shoulder and the pen
the piece of driftwood I saw that you must have seen some beauty and grace in
out of a wide expanse of sand, something ordinary must have moved you
wiping the evening dew of the windshield with a pack of cigarette
all these things
I promised to forget

I must have loved you even though I'm still to prideful to admit that it is possible
to love someone you don't know
it's hard not to fall for an illusion when it fits my own
but I must have, and in ways must still do, if I still keep this list in my mind

I should have thanked you, I would have liked to
if I had a chance, I would do it properly
say the words
because you took me aside and gave me the best thing that anyone has ever given me
you told me I was good
and I, for the first time, believed it.

I have never believed in compliments even though I like them
because they have always been mere civility, but when you told me
you thought I can do this
I believed you.

And I have never looked back since

Sometimes, I think that is what love is
all it is, is just one moment
when everything in your life changes
branching out in a new direction you have never seen or even imagined
it is just one moment
when you see yourself and the world you inhabit in a strange new light, as if someone has given you new eyes

Every thing I will ever write from that moment on will be a lovesong
to you, and myself
and I will never forget that
the moment you took me outside the class room and told me that what I have offered was good
and that I can give something of value

so I will forget the regret and all those other things
but never what you, in your generosity has offered me
what was true, or false, no longer matter
because I have taken your gift and made it my core
It is a strength I have found that I will stand on for years to come
even after the list of you have become things beyond memory
what you have given to me will stand, the bedrock of my core and of all the things I hope to come
where it will flourish and blossom, a fount of a gift that will live on and give
over and over and over and over