I didn't mind sharing you with another woman.
I could see how much you loved each other on
Christmas Eve when she made us dinner: she set so
elegant a table, gave you such carefully chosen gifts.
I told her I understood; I welcomed her friendship.
When you called New Years Eve I was so pleased
to hear the message that you loved me, so weary
after the children were in bed, my parents anniversary
over. I knew you'd had dinner together at that elegant
little French restaurant in the old train station,
the one you always think you've taken me to.
I shouldn't have been surprised. I as good as asked
you both to do it. I didn't notice any change when
I came home from up North. Really I shouldn't have
asked you about it. Really you shouldn't have told.
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