November 4, 2008
By Heather Lurvey, Milton, NH

As I look to the sky
I often find myself asking why
Without our gracious adornment of the lawn
All the envious lookers would be gone
Between the little hole and putters stick as I sit
I wait for him to give me a good hit
The wind blows me in the cool air
I wish life wasn’t this unfair
As I dream of how high I could grow
I dazzle myself; I’ll very be my own woe
As often as I drink the rain
I find myself wallowing in pain
You play this game because it brings you peace
But your doing so leads us to be decease
There are thousands of us that will go
I am not looking forward to this death show
For my dreams they will never come true
It was days ago that this I knew
The almighty with his metal toy
Will take from us all our joy
In this tale I tell to thee
You must remember to think of me
To you I may mean nothing at all
But its for your entertainment that I fall

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