Cherry Dale, My Cherry Dale


Distant, yet so real;
Trodden path from childhood days.
Old pump and dipper, faded now with sunlit rays.


Cherry Dale, My Cherry Dale


Little girl with golden curls,
Eating grapes from Grandma’s vines.
Distant scenes for which one pines.


Cherry Dale, My Cherry Dale


Gentle breeze coming across the fields,
Sends dandelion puffs in little whirls.
The old tree swing sways to and fro,
Eyes gaze upward to playing squirrels.


Cherry Dale, My Cherry Dale


Grandpa sits the little one down with hammer and nails.
She drives them into the ground as if a trainman laying rails.
Passing time in the warm summer sun,
She thinks that hammering is really great fun.


Cherry Dale, My Cherry Dale


Down at the barn, are the baby chicks all fluffy and soft.
Grandpa lets her hold one, but she’s not allowed in the loft.


Cherry Dale, My Cherry Dale


The old farm house saw boys and girls come and go.
The boys came back from war with sea bags in tow.
Tornado took all back in forty-nine,
But etched in my memory, it will forever be mine.


Cherry Dale, My Cherry Dale