A Cup Full of Joy
What a great day for golf in the middle of Fall,
feeling quite chipper I drew a smile on my ball.
My confidence rose as I stepped to the tee,
while I stared down the flag on this gorgeous par three.
I swung back the club that I held in my hands
and prayed that my ball on the green softly lands.
As the white orb pierced the blue Autumn sky,
I soon lost my sight with the sun in my eyes.
I strolled to the green with trusty putter in tow,
but no ball in sight. Where did it go?
I searched in the rough and the bunker of sand,
with extreme disappointment and useless putter in hand.
As my search would yield nothing, I was about to give up.
When a small voice whispered, "Just look in the cup."
Could it be that my little friend found his way in the hole?
Who would believe it? Not one living soul.
So I walked to the flag on this dreadful par three
and I smiled at a ball that was smiling at me.
To whom it may concern this poem is pure fiction.
11/23/20
Copyright © Wren Rushing | Year Posted 2020
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