Had a writing assignment to write about a widow who feared water, basically. This is what I came up with. More poem than song, but crazier shit has happened, so who knows...

Mrs. (Ms.) Monahan

Two score years and one damn day ago,
Mrs. (Ms.) Monahan awoke to the sound of the rain
Calmly rasping the outer walls of
Their sterling white house.
Mr. Monahan had left her already,
Paddled away through the 6am glow.
Took with him his rod. Some hooks. A bucket of worms.
Buckeye the dog.
Afloat on the lake, must they all have been,
A few many miles out when the rain began.
The wind began. The boat began
To teeter, quickly flipped, but then again,
No one really knows for sure. A secret kept by
The tightlipped sky and the murderous ebbing
Flow of the tide.
Her hair like their house, long since has grayed. She’s aged
With the sadness that has ever since stayed.
And the pains in her vacant chest of course still
Remain, while the absence of her love
Points blame at the informal blue murk
Of the still silent tide.
And through these years, she’s refused ever to near
That which took and stole him,
Until today. Waist deep she wades,
Soaked to the bone
In tears.
"Tuning... who the f*** needs tuning?!"