ODE TO GOLF

ODE TO GOLF

In my hand I hold a ball.

White and dimpled, rather small.

Oh, how bland it does appear,

this harmless looking little sphere.

By his size I could not guess

the awesome strength it does possess;

My life has not been quite the same

since I chose to play this little game.

It rules my mind for hours on end.

A fortune it has made me spend.

It has made me curse and cry.

I hate myself and want to die.

I am promised a thing called 'Par'

if I can hit it straight and far.

To master such a tiny ball should

not be very hard at all.

But my desires the ball refuses

and does exactly as it chooses.

It hooks and slices, dribbles then dies

and disappears before my eyes.

Often it will have a whim to hit a tree

or take a swim.

With miles of grass on which to land

it finds a tiny patch of sand.

Then it has me offering up my soul if

it will just drop into the hold.

It's made me whimper like a pup, and swear that I will give it up

and take to drink to ease my sorrow.

But "The ball" knows...

I'll be back....tomorrow.

Anonymous