Forget the links
I’m in the yard
Starting low
Looking for control

Mom’s with baby
Strolling my street
A wayward ball
Could land me in jail
I would need bail

I am tired of being a duffer
Thinking new clubs
Will lead the way
Don’t I know yet
Practice is my best bet?

Following directions
Not worthy of my inspection
Forever foolish
I can figure it out

The language of golf
I could never decipher
For decades illiterate
I forsook for the feel of it

They told me
I must find my swing
Box myself in
Take it slow, mostly
Keep the ball in the yard!