She is elegant, distinct,

Glimmering in every sunlight.

She is long and slender - a

dancer bound tightly in silver

And adorned to entice eager eyes.

She sings too, harmoniously, composing

A symphony with the birds, contrasting

The impatient hum of street life.

But she does not dance or sing when she yearns to,

She dances at your will,

Sings at your will,

Falls at your will.

How beautifully bizarre

It would be if she defied your

Strong force

Swaying, singing

In another direction,

If she were not reliant

On you, in union.

But she is reliant,

Bound to your will naturally,

You are her wind

and she is your wind chime.