Life on the golf course
The stillness of the tree line
The chirping of the birds
Broken by the foursome sound
The knock, knock of the wood
I see the group of four
Looking for their balls
Quiet talk drifts around
Then the heavens pour.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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Well written Vincent. no doubt enjoyable, carry on. Please follow the e-mail. I offer you bog 10.O.K. Thanks.