When You Can't Play Golf

Winter's here. The fairways white, the flags are gone. Silence where the

wind once sung. My clubs are sleeping in the hole, dreaming of the

summer sun. The queens are frozen, locked in ice. Footprints fade where

hope once stayed. I watch the snow fall slow and cold, like it knows

the game we played. I try to swing in memories, but even they

feel numb. Every forecast breaks my heart when it says

the snow has won. Cuz it hurts when you can't play golf,

when the course is buried deep. It's a pain only golfers know, when the ground