Glistening,
green, grass,
Smooth,
soft, sand,
Menacing oaks
dot the fairways,
My leather
glove grips my hand.
The sun
beats down,
The wind whispers
quietly,
The water
is like fine glass,
The flag
billows defiantly.
My irons
slice through the tranquil air,
My spikes
rip up the perfect fairways,
I smile
alongside my friends,
These are my
favorite days.
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