Fore!
(this poem is currently in competition)

You�re so eager to abuse a friendship.

Sweet little thing
this flower of ours.
The fragrant joy
pushed its way through
the rich brown earth
and we watered it with tears,
shone on it with laughter.
Petal by fiery petal
it was the child of
our years;
the long curling stem
the product of
our handshakes,
our inside jokes,
The hot summer days
when we�d shake our heads
and the water would fall
hugging our knees to us,
telling stories,
making faery tales.
And this flower grew
thick and
green and
brilliant.

But recently
it seems to me

you have taken your
golfclub,
lifted the nine iron to the sky,
and brought it down with a
whack
back again with a
swish
and again with a
thud
and again.
Petals bruised and strewn
you massacre.
The stem limp and creased
you mutilate.
Lifting your nine iron to the
pretty blue sky
you repeatedly
bring it down with a
smack
back again with a
pop
and again with a
thud
and again.

When all else fails for you,
I�ll still be here
you big fat golfer.

copyright 2001 by devon