Nita S. Balma

(Augusta, Georgia)

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Best Poem of Nita S. Balma

My Hope

I often take the long way 'round
When I am traveling into town
Then I can pass the old homeplace
Tho' little tears run down my face,

For I imagine I can see
My daddy's chair beneath that tree,
Where he and mom would sit and wait
And worry if I showed up late.

We're really glad you came today
I remember Mom would say
And by their faces I could see
I was as welcome as could be.

Yes, we're mighty glad to have you
That's what daddy always said,
And we'd bow our heads together
When dear mother broke the bread.


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