An Over Drive – Golf Poetry

AN OVER-DRIVE 

ALE white, unspotted by the world, she lies 
In passive patience at his restless feet. 
And waits, unflinching, the fierce blow to meet. 
With arm uplifted, and with sure surmise, 
He takes unerring aim, and utters cries 
Of strange prophetic warning. Far and fleet, 
Across the green, through hazy summer heat. 
She speeds beyond the sight of watching eyes. 

And when her swift and heavenward flight she ends. 
In soft tree-shaded spot, she softly sinks 
And lies, safe-hidden, by the grasses tall. 
While he, alas ! on whom the match depends. 
Walks wearily across the well-laid links. 
And mourns aloud his lost and only ball! 

Sylvia Florance