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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is my first poem on the site, look for me on another site.

Submitted: May 27, 2018

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Submitted: May 27, 2018



Golfballs; they are so small,
Exciting, but maybe not at all.
Inconclusive, you may say,
But it has been traded away.

Its life starts in the factory,
A life well thought dreary.
In this world of decay,
Its life has been cast away.

He enters the bag,
His mind casts shadows.
The hag, he carries him,
Far, far away...

He observes the sunlight once more,
It has entered, the earlier lore.
Later, struck by the stick,
For the water has made a beautiful trick.

The golfball seems to float,
But it has never made a moat.
It sinks, heart so heavy,
Death, it also gets me.

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