Poetry from the Generations 

The Old Balm of Gilead Tree
by Velma M. Carlson

 

I remember the old Balm of Gilead Tree
That stood on my lawn at home.
It was tall and stately as it could be;
It was like a playhouse to Bunny and me.

 Many times I tried to reach the top;
It was the hardest thing for me.
But Bunny would always pass me by
And turn and laugh at me.

We played beneath it many a day;
Neither sun nor rain, it seems,
Could change our minds on what to do
When we climbed the old, old tree.

 The mailbox was nailed to the trunk of that tree,
And we waited there every day patiently.
The man who delivered the mail each day
Was a real friend to he family;

And he took us to ride around the square
And brought us back to the old, old tree.

Many years have passed and the old tree is gone,
Leaving wonderful memories
Of how Bunny could climb and hang by her toes
At the top of the old, old tree.

I think of Bunny as the days go by;
She was always so dear to me;
But in my mind I can plainly see
Bunny climbing the old, old tree.

In memory of Bunny, i can never forget
The love she had for me.
We were always together when we were kids
Climbing the old Balm of Gilead Tree.

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