Buying The Beer

Poem about a ‘hole in one’

Unwinding, like a tight coiled spring Keep head down, don’t look to pin Release club head as it strikes the ball Turn on your hips, so as not to fall

The ball sails on through clear blue skies Like a missile the golf ball flies No need to cry that disheartening ‘Fore!’ The club contact was without a flaw

Great shot, my golf partner kindly says I hold my stance and smile for praise The ball begins its arc of descent For once, it’s gone where it was meant

The ball hits green and in its pitch mark bit Ten feet from the pin, I can’t believe it Then rolls on slowly, toward the flag Could this be the day when golf tongues wag?

My heart is thumping, I can feel the moan Two hundred yards the ball has flown My knees are shaking my head’s in a spin Dear God, please, let it strike the pin!

Coming left now the ball rolls near Another ten inches and I’m buying the beer The ball then falls and oh what fun My partner screams, ‘It’s a hole in one!’

I played the last four holes treading on air Not for me the golfer’s despair When it went in the hole, I could have fell dead So today it is worth this ‘hangover’ head