09/29/2023
The game of golf in a poem. See you at Highlander this fall.
Ed Paine PGA
The mornings have been crisp and clear, the leaves are starting to change. Fall is here! It's perfect weather for golf here in the valley!
Came across this poem and wanted to share...
In my hand I hold a ball,
White and dimpled... rather small.
Oh, how bland it does appear,
This harmless looking little sphere.
By its size I could not guess
The awesome strength is does possess.
But since I fell beneath its spell,
I've wandered through the fires of hell.
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.
By 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.
Then has me offering up my soul,
If only it would find the hole.
It's made me whimper like a pup,
And swear that I will give it up.
And take a drink to ease my sorrow,
But the ball knows... I'll be back tomorrow.
-Allan Berman
Come on out and enjoy some fall golf! Call us at the pro shop to book your tee times: 509-884-4653