041310e Sometimes It Could Happened Poem by Manonton Dalan

there's this group of trees by golf course
it collects lost flyballs; home for geese
nobody wants to crass stagnant water
so their balls is stranded there forever
sometimes i go there to pick good ones
some i keep, some i hit it back to them

one day there's an old man playing
he politely ask me if i could find his
lost balls, so i ask what is brand name
he said, ' it could be anything, my son'
i reach into my pocket and throw some
he said, ' thanks, i lost all my balls today'