The Golf Ball

by

Jean Young

The question is often asked
To answer is my delight;
What is that insignificant ball?
What is its plight?
There are so many joys,
Too numerous to tell.
It is my golf ball,
My imagination starts to swell.

Even though it is tiny,
A long story unfolds.
It is so important,
Many stories are told.
A round of golf inspires one
To get up and get out;
You may not be competitive,
But you will try, no doubt.

It take you out of doors,
To enjoy the fresh air and green grass.
It offers four hours of entertainment,
We may not speak of scores, alas.
You do become involved
With competitors and friends;
You finish your game today,
But that's not where the story ends.

You learn about Nature,
The meadowlark, the geese,
The beaver and the muskrat,
To mention the least.
The ducklings abound,
A cheery prairie dog,
Yes, even a mouse or two
Just under the log.

The little waterfall
With its gentle roar,
Speaking to you as into it
Your newest ball will soar.
You do attempt to improve,
Oh, for a birdie or a par!
What will your partner say?
Nothing your hopes will mar.

What about a hole-in-one?
What a delight that would be.
They say it is possible,
The challenge is on, you see.
Now that you are so relaxed
With pleasures you have accrued,
Off to the nineteenth hole for coffee,
You're now in a great mood.

One may even shop for a new iron,
"I owe that much to me."
That my golf is improving
All my friends will see.
I believe I have answered the question.
That ball is worth the world to me.
If you'd join me in my madness,
A better world it would be.

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