Woody…

 

I wonder why your head doesn’t hurt,

how your eyes see only once and not three

as you cling there banging your head forcefully into the tree.

A red tuff proudly proclaiming your name,

a silhouette of percussion hoping for a prize.

This drummer boy playing his song to creation, tapping rhapsody, keeping time.

Noticeable quiet arrives our player now sadly gone.

New adventures await as he calmly takes to the skies.

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