What Kind of a Union Is This

She said she would stay if I gave her more independence,  that I had to give her more flexibility in how she handles her affairs.  She told me she would stay if I maintained her allowance, but allowed her to generate her own cash, and keep whatever she made.  She said the cap-in-hand approach that had served us so well these many years, no longer met her needs.  She told me that she would stay, but that we had to change the terms of our relationship, that the world had moved on but that the way I treated her harkened back to a bygone era. She told me that if I couldn't conform, she'd already found another suitor.  That she, could easily be even more successful, as part of another union.  And I admit, I did not react well:  I did not tell her that she was amazingly  beautiful. I did not tell her that she was inspirationally intelligent. I did not remind her that together we had once ruled the world, so what would we possibly achieve apart? I did not reassure her, that whilst my heart wholly craved for us to be together, if she chose to leave, I believed she could do whatever she put her mind to.  But all of this could have been forgotten. All of this could been forgiven.  If not for one thing my dear friend.   In all of this, she did not once tell me, that she loved me.  NOTE: This is a poem about the September 2014 Scottish independence election, where the people of Scotland voted to remain part of the United Kingdom. The constitutional ramifications for the state of the entire union are still playing out. Mike Concise www.mikeconcise.com