The Gentle Swing of Nature’s Game

Poetry Image

On emerald fields where silence sings,
The golfer’s heart in rhythm swings.
With every stroke, the ball takes flight,
Through morning mist and fading night.

The whispering wind, the rustling leaves,
In this serene, the soul believes.
That every putt and every drive,
Reflects a life both calm and alive.

Beneath the sky, so vast, so blue,
The course unfolds its endless view.
And in this game, both old and new,
We find a peace, a joy, a clue.

To life’s great game, its ups and downs,
On fairways green and sandy grounds.
The golfer’s heart will always yearn,
For nature’s course, to it return.

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