The golfer stands upon the green <br />with putter in his hand, <br />the flag is waving in the breeze - <br />he's made it past the sand; <br />He checks the slope and calculates <br />the distance to the cup, <br />assumes the stance, remembering...... <br />look at the ball, not up; <br />It's not that far, a piece of cake <br />to sink it in the hole, <br />a practice swing, a gentle tap, <br />the ball begins to roll <br />gently forward, now it curves <br />along the emerald grass, <br />but will it drop into that little <br />hole......you bet your ass! <br /> <br /> <br />5/24/2014<br /><br />Linda Ori<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/green-peace-4/
