Ode to the Fanatical Golfer by Kevin D. Rolle - HTML preview

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’Handicap’ Blues

 

They told him his game was taking a nap That it never showed up…it needed a map!

Of his golf apparel, he was oh so proud. But people thought it was just too loud. Often suggesting it needed a shroud! This caused a fight…a rolling dust cloud!

To his heart, golf was the key.
It was on the green, his soul felt free.
He could hardly await the time for ‘tee’,
But club dues must be paid…the ‘ride’s’ got a fee.

Once in a blue moon, he made a birdie,
Though he knew much about golf (a little nerdy). About to tee-off, his feet stood sturdy,
But only took up a divot…brown and verde!

It didn’t take long for his eyes to intake
The path of the ball…the flight it must make. ”Easy!”, he thought. “This is gonna be cake!” But the fish all ‘braced’ for it’s entry into the lake.