As a boy, I was taught
That Angels exist,
That the halos and feathers
Were real.
As a man, I've seen
Those halos and feathers replaced;
By leather, and chrome, and steel.
Each night my Angel
Folds her Iron Wings
And sleeps outside
My door.
At first light she awaits me,
To ride again, to feel free,
And at peace once more.
Her nameplate says Harley,
But it's Angel to me,
As we sweep, and glide, and soar.
Her voice is mellow and throaty,
But can be raised, to sound a
Thundering roar!
We are partners for life,
My Angel and I,
Each needing the
Other to survive.
I, making her parts
The sum of our being,
And she, making me feel alive!
So now, I believe once more
In Angels,
Her halo lights my way.
And her feathers are vibrantly
Displayed and tattooed
In black, white chrome,
And True Blue....
As a boy, I was taught
That Angels exist,
That the halos and feathers
Were real.
As a man, I've seen
Those halos and feathers replaced;
By leather, and chrome, and steel.

By the GreenMonster

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