GOLF
Quietly the carts roll by in front of my patio,
That keep the golfers on the go.
Across the beautiful greens,
That are always manicured it seems.
A sport for young man and old,
From baby face to being bold
A sport for any woman that is fit,
And likes to move rather then sit.
A sport for everyone it is not,
As it cost a lot.
You are required to look smart,
In your clothing, shoes and cart.
And you have no chance to win,
Without the right balls in your bin.
And one can not make a gain,
If you do not have an expensive club to aim.
And if they do not make a right hit,
I hear an occasional soft ‘o shit!’
Because protocol is one cannot shout ,
Or even speak too loud.
Golf is not the same,
Unless it is a competitive game.
I never had enough yearning,
To spend more time on learning.
I am now too old to start,
And therefore no longer have use for my cart.
I waited till when,
My grandson was ten.
To give him the cart with clubs and balls
And move it between their garage walls.
We will continue an occasional three generation game for the fun
Here in the desert sun.
And for years Ethan will look smart
Driving Oma’s old golf cart .