GOLF22 Mar 2019 18:24
_In My Hand I Hold A *Ball*_,
White And Dimpled, And Rather Small.
Oh How Bland It Does Appear,
This *Harmless Looking Little Sphere*.
By Its 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 Stupid Game.
_It Rules My Mind_ For Hours On End,
A Fortune It Has Made Me Spend.
It Has Made Me Curse And Made Me Cry,
And Hate Myself And Want To Die.
It Promises Me A Thing Called Par,
If I 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 And 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.
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.