If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, I said to myself,
As I picked up those clubs from off the shelf.
Just whack that old ball; how hard could it be?
So, off we two went to my first Par Three.
I set the ball down, gave the club a good grip,
Then swung with my might and let the thing rip.
The ball hopped across the grass like a rabbit.
It stopped by the hole; I just had to tap it.
“You birdied the first hole!” said my husband with glee.
It’s just like I said. How hard could it be?
I don’t know what happened after that thrill,
But, I can assure you it went downhill.
I’d expect the ball to go sailing free,
Only to find it still on the tee.
I’d swing again and watch that ball go.
Where it went, no one would know.
It can’t be that hard. I had to prove it.
I’d hire a teacher and learn how to do it.
After each lesson, I’d try it again.
Now once in awhile the ball rolls in.
The thrill of seeing that little ball soar
Is all I need to come back for more.
I may never golf like the pros on TV.
But, I’m having fun. Join me and see!
©Fern Boldt November 23, 2003