On The Wings Of Love

I heard the voice of the woodpecker peck;
my friend Woody, had come visiting;
loudly knocking on the floor of my deck;
somehow, he knew I’d be listening.

You might suspect he came out of greed;
but, he came out of love, instead;
this gorgeous angel, was aware of my need;
one, whose feathers, make up his bed.

A bird of great majesty and beauty;
it seemed that he lived nearby;
maintaining an internal sense of duty;
he’s the angel, who hears me cry.

Woody is the bird, my wife had named;
as our wooden desk was being destroyed;
she wouldn’t allow, that he be blamed;
her teasing about Woody; I enjoyed.

Woody had an aura of the imperial;
an angel appeared his true being;
he appeared, more or less, ethereal;
his home, was with the unseen.

Woody had totally captured her heart;
tho her soul, returned to her home above;
now Woody and she will never part;
for they left on the wings of Love.

Now, it appears that Woody’s returned;
at least, it appears it’s Woody, I see;
in a few years, there’s much I’ve learned;
perhaps, Woody’s returned for me.

Monty 6/7/22. # 1,157