Beneath the cerulean sky so vast,
The emerald green stretches, a serene contrast.
In the silence, a gentle breeze does blow,
As whispers of the past, in the fairway’s flow.

The club in hand, a steady grip,
With every swing, dreams start to slip.
Through the air, the ball takes flight,
A dance of hope in the morning light.

Hills and valleys, a course uncharted,
Each hole a story, where dreams have started.
Footsteps echo, a journey so pure,
In the heart of nature, we find our cure.

The final putt, a moment serene,
Victory or loss, the journey’s the sheen.
In the game of golf, life’s lessons are learned,
With every round, a new respect is earned.