In the heart of spring, when May is nigh,
The sun waltzes across the clear blue sky.
A gentle breeze whispers through the air,
In the game of golf, we find our solace there.
Golfers arise with the morning dew,
With hopes anew and handicaps to eschew.
Clad in attire of subtle class,
On the verdant fairways, they amass.
Swing by swing and hole by hole,
In every shot, they pour their soul.
Beneath the May’s resplendent sun,
Each round of golf, a new tale spun.
Birds serenade from high above,
As golf balls with a zephyr move.
The scent of blooming flowers and mown grass,
Lends a magic that none can surpass.
Every putt, a silent prayer,
In the cup, may it find its lair.
Echoing cheers fill the scene,
When the ball rolls on the pristine green.
May’s warm days kiss the course,
And the game of golf shows its gentle force.
In its grip, we find delight,
From the dawn’s first light to the hush of twilight.
For in the dance of clubs and balls,
And walking on the greens and halls,
In the embrace of the month of May,
Life’s worries seem to fade away.
So here’s to golf in merry May,
A game of grace, come what may.
In the heart of spring, under the sky’s vast dome,
We find peace, we find joy, we find home.
