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Staring it down,The greatest shot of the round.Straight as an arrow, as high as a building,“Will I win” I am wondering. The shot finally lands,Club twirling in my hands.Thank God it's not in the trees,This feels like a breeze. I see the ball roll,
Green, lush grass, humble in its tone Bleeding skies, sunrise, the sun wakes up and moans Brown trees, green leaves, warm breeze, it's here The perfect day, to wash away, all stress, anxiety, and fear
I want to take my best shot and wish you a very happy birthday!
My dream job is exactly the opposite, neither dream, nor job. There is a conception that you must work, sweat, toil, struggle at your job. What is the dream in that? The dream is leaving such a job.
Coach “Coach I want to play soccer” No you’re playing golf The scholarships will give you a better shot “Okay”
The tee was high, The sun was hot The fairway encompassed with trees The path winded up ahead “this’ll be a touch one,” My coach said. So what? I thought I set up at the box
I sing of a feat known by few The day is young with the morning dew The bravest of men shall take on the day For there is a fire-breathing dragon to slay
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