On the emerald sea where silence reigns,
The gentle breath of morning whispers low.
A dance begins with every swing’s embrace,
In rhythmic grace, where dreams and echoes flow.

The sunlit paths weave tales of old,
With shadows cast by ancient trees that stand.
Each step a journey through the stories told,
In the land where passion meets the sand.

The ball takes flight with hopeful heart,
In arcs of wonder through the open sky.
A testament to skill, a work of art,
As time suspends, and moments softly fly.

The final putt, a whisper in the breeze,
A gentle nod to nature’s vast expanse.
In quiet celebration beneath the trees,
The game of golf, a timeless, graceful dance.