You don’t run,
And you don’t catch.
You walk.
And you swing.
You hit me.
And I go flying like a leaf on a windy day.
You drive, chip, and putt.
You might hit me in the sand, or the water.
We par, and we bogie.
I belong on the green-
The fairway-
Or at least the out of bounce.
The driver, iron, chipper, and putter belong on my side.
I am the thing that makes up the game-
Without me, the game isn’t the same.
I am the thing with more dimples than any human.
It’s me- the one you write your initials on when you are competing.
It’s me- the one you left in your bag next to the tees.
It is winter, and soon I will see you again.
You and me as a team.
Remember?
I am the ball.