Andrew Ding

Some Golfer

With a strong, smooth swing,
A happy golfer
Creates clean connection.
No thick shots through the dirt.
Colorfully talking with his friends,
He steers over to his ball.

The next day he lugs his bags,
Trudging down the endless fairway,
Chunking tremendous divots.
That cursed sun.
He glares at his trenches.
Searching in the trees,
He finds nothing.
Longing for the day to end
As he finishes the fifth hole.
Mosquitoes biting,
No driving,
And his parents ranting.




[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2011 EDITION]


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