One day cleaning out my garage
I dug out some old clubs
that sparked memories of my folks.
Dad worked for Allied Golf
and crafted that ladies set
with hickory wood shafts
and hardwood and iron cast heads,
arranging them in a skillfully sown,
canvas and leather stovepipe bag.
Since Mom rarely played,
and though clouds loomed, he’d say,
“It never rains on a golf course,”
as he snuck out to smoke
and play cards with the boys.
The two lived out a long life together,
not always tenderly but steadily.
Yes, there were tiffs and stormy nights,
and we kids feared a bigger rift.
But all in all, they weathered it all,
even when mom went silent with age
and for ten years Dad still pined.
Deeper and longer than that of the cranes,
their love was stronger than titanium steel.
© 2022, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.
