Sunday, November 27, 2016

The Back Nine of Life

The Back Nine
The analogy of life to the game of golf hits the nail on the head
The idea of the four seasons with the leaves turning color then being shed
Or the snows coming down, first melting, not sticking then slowly into drifts
Plodding ever so slowly as surely, ever so surely one loses the mobility gift
Until covered from head to toe never to be seen again
None of us are immortal always the question of not if but when
But the days of a season are never in a straight line
Subtle changes sometimes hard to clearly see or define
But golf is really much more zero one
Like match play unless delusional one knows when it can be no longer won
Down nine holes on the tee at ten even if in the past it has always been your best hole
The best to be hoped for is a tie followed  by sudden death to reach your winning goal
Drop another hole and your chances have come to an end which for many might be a relief
A chance to accept the loss without a bunch of “I wish I would haves” that bring only self anger and grief
As long as the game of life does not issue to each player Mulligans on demand
One should know exactly where after each stroke one will stand
Half of one’s life to correct one’s mistakes
Should turn any rough seas into a much calmer lake
Even with one half, correction is not quick enough
And the seas are still and growing rough
Still enough time to spread the oils of acceptance on the stormy waters
Even if delayed to the few remaining days when in a mental wheel chair able only to totter
Today I need not the ability to swing a club to chase the double eagle or hole in one
Joy enough to craft a poem and feel the warm rays on my face of the Sun
In the game of life today I feel I have won
The past cannot be edited to rerun
And tomorrow has not yet even begun
© November 27, 2016, Michael P. Ridley aka the Alaskanpoet 
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