My Wife Likes to Hang Things

A kitchen witch hangs in my house
Colored glasses drooping over copper stays
The hot wind strums the strings
As the dangling collection sways

A stained hand dangles down
Blue and gold ribbon affixed to a board
My wife likes to hang things
A twisted leathered bridle, tacked with a cord

Hanging like silent wind chimes
One end free the other moor
Blue bottles dangle down
Dancing over the kitchen floor

The slow and shifting drifting waltz
The pendant utensils hops
My wife likes to hang things
Now slowing but never stops

Next to the witch twirls a nursery mobile
Too fast it spins and sings
Together they fly with a gentle breeze because
My wife liked to hang things