Monday, March 17, 2014

Aiming for the green

Finding Golf Clubs on a Rainy Evening
with apologies to Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
They're the clubs of our local pro;
This morning as he played a round
He felt he'd never sunk so low.

One fairway shot was never found.
He hit two long drives out of bounds.
He double-bogeyed eight and ten.
His cursing made the hills resound.

The laughter of the other men
Made him forget he'd ever been
Happy to play this miserable game.
He fretted, fumed, turned red and then

All his excuses sounding lame,
And having no one else to blame,
He flung his clubs in anger and shame,
He flung his clubs in anger and shame.

in Volume 2 Issue 2
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