Golf Museum, Regensburg

 

Spotted like eggs,

One bursting as if in birth,

Wrapped up like cheeses under dusty glass,

The golf balls wait,

In the World’s Best Golf Museum,

For the stroke that never comes,

The flight they never see –

The long, clear sail over fairway and green,

The clop in the cup, the cheer sent skyward,

The grateful hand retrieving the victorious friend.

 

They can wait all they like; the day’s not coming.

Golf has moved on; leather and feathers are out of style.

That calm, blue morning that they’re dreaming of

Will come for a million others – not for them.

 

But maybe this is happiness:

Something postponed.

Something put off, forever one day more,

Receding into a perfect future –

A perfect sunny day

With nothing to do but fly.