REMEMBERING BUNNY OLSON
They were always playing jokes, so why not with a name?
When he said to call him "Bunny"... well, I thought it was a game.
After all, his accent, cockeyed hat, and mates were all a part
of the contingent from "Down Under" where they'd perfected to an art
the tug and pull on all your limbs before they stole your heart.
I was absolutely taken with his voice and gentle soul;
His twinkling eye, his hearty laugh, and conversations ever droll.
Older than most boys I saw at base camps and LZs
his topics of discussion showed his schooled facilities
of matters far beyond my ken of politics and wars and men
and why we went and what was then
... but "then" is now four decades gone
and generations passing by see other wars in other lands
and even Bunny Olsons die.
There is a little friend I have that keeps his mem'ry new,
a rabbit-furred koala bear, a gift, he said, from me to you.
Thanks, my friend, for gentleness amidst the throes of war.
For friendship I can ne'er forget – a "Bunny" bear with open arms...
That's what arms are for.