Titleist number 3 ProV1 golf ball pauses,

The gleaming white sphere inches away from falling --
Giving me the thing I want,
Sweet victory!

I wait, my nerves tingling, jumping out of my body.
The heaviness in my chest whispers to me.
“Don’t breathe; just wait.”
One slender, green grass blade stands between me and my goal.
I pray for an earthquake,
A slight movement,
Anything!
Anything to move the ball.
My future hangs on this one little movement.
Scholarship, fame, glory, all within my reach.
Winning is everything.

The dimpled ball grins wickedly at me.
I silently plead,
“Go in, go in, go in!”
Suddenly the wind picks up,
Becomes my friend,
I watch as the wind nudges the ball.
One blade of grass bends with a force of the ball.
The ball is rolling,
Finally, dropping.
I hear the thump
As plastic meets plastic.
Oh, how treasured the sound to my ears.
My body deflates like a balloon with the release of energy.

I have what I want.
It is a joyous feeling
To know that victory is mine.