In the dawn’s light, the fairway gleams,
A canvas of emerald, whispering dreams.
The golfer’s heart, steady and true,
Awaits the challenge, in morning’s dew.

With a practiced stance, and a focused gaze,
The club meets ball in a silent praise.
Arcing high, a flight so pure,
Seeking the pin, its final cure.

The wind’s soft breath, a guiding friend,
Over hills and sand, the journey bends.
Each stroke a tale, of skill and grace,
In this tranquil, timeless place.

As the sun sets, shadows grow long,
The day’s last putt, a silent song.
In the game of golf, life’s beauty is seared,
In every swing, a story revered.