What has come over the neighbor’s wife?
The captain’s wife who was always singing;
What has come over the brightness of life?
She ran in the house and slammed the door,
And her short sobs have ended the ringing
Of expectations we hear no more.
There’s her laundry, flapping in the breeze;
They’re phantom sails that pull no ship at all;
The silly way they pantomime a squall
Should surely put an anxious heart at ease.
And yet her husband finds no mirth in shrouds
Of bright colors that curl and clap;
He comes to the door to watch the ominous clouds,
And only fears the burdened lines will snap.