NG AT THE OCEAN

Not Shouting At The Ocean

I'm whispering to the trees.
I'm saying: Guess what?
My wife has gone, she's left me.
So how do I feel about that?

Well, between you and me, I'm livid.
Deep inside, I rage
at the injustice of being deserted
as I approach old age.

Apparently, she's hated me
for years and years and years.
I think back to what my Mother said,
'This will end in tears.'

But I'm not shouting at the ocean.
I'm whispering to the trees.
There'll be no show of emotion.
No falling to my knees.

There'll be no beating of my breast.
No pulling out of hair.
I'll do, as I have always done,
and not show her that I care.