Hole in one
one perfect swing from a
hundred fifty five yards into the wind
over the marsh to a small green
beautiful draw trajectory
the ball is focused on one thing only
it hits the fringe and rolls to the flag
then dies in the hole
was I ready for a miracle?
I was hoping
but was I ready?
no
did I believe in miracles?
sure
I had you in my life
This poem was written/submitted by Bogeyman.
(30 votes, average: 4.13 out of 5)
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