Relax it's just a poem

Once upon a time I knew a poet , who
knew many other poets, and there were many poets,
and then there was this poet, who was the wife
of another big poet, and she woke up one fine morning,

and and looked up in the sky and wrote,
"beautiful mornings were made for beautiful people, not for me."

She turned over and kept on sleeping, letting the morning pass, and as the ugliness of the day settled around her ,

she woke up to find her husband , the big poet , writing, she wanted to see what he was writing,
but there was an obvious chance that peeping at the now private, to be public words

can harm their marital peace, so she left him alone with his words,
like she had trained herself and turned over and slept again;

Goodbye, the big poet wrote.
"I am leaving and not coming back."

He wrote on and on,
explaining in subtle metaphors ,
why he must go, why some birds can't fly, why there were no monsoon rains in his hometown,

why he could never love his mother, and any other woman for that matter, but he must go, that he is leaving ,

and if you are still wondering that he left her, relax,
it was just a Poem.