Poetry

Driving Range Angel – Golf Course Devil

Early in the morning before my golf game,
I go to hit balls, this body we’ll train.
And there just as always waiting for me,
my driving range angel, how good she treats me.
She slows down my swing and clears up my mind,
I grip the club lightly and every shot is on line.
My wedge is just perfect, my driver just fine,
and she tells me today all the skins will be mine.
I bid her farewell and head for the tee,
looking for a Nassau, the game just for me.
I play one and two, one under par,
and I know that today I will go far.
But as I walked to number three tee,
the golf course devil was beckoning me.
He said swing fast and hit the ball hard,
and you’ll out drive the others by 25 yards.
I took his advice and the ball wouldn’t go straight,
and I finished the hole carding an eight.
I tried not to listen as he practiced his art,
but by hole number five, he was driving my cart.
He said names make no difference, be it Don, Bud or Paul,
you all seem to listen and I make you fall.
I finished the day twenty four over par,he came up and hugged me,

and arm and arm we headed for the bar.

As we walked up the steps, I glanced down at the range,
with a bucket of balls, there was my angel saving my place.
Don LeeJuly 1980