by Phylis Cox

Created on: November 29, 2008   Last Updated: November 14, 2009

The Eighth Green


He picked up two chairs and a lantern,
She giggled and grabbed drinks for two,
He led the way and she followed,
Ready to do what he wanted to do.


Together they strolled to the eighth green,
Enjoying the breeze as they walked,
They set up their chairs in the fairway,
And stretched out with sodas to talk.


She knew that there was no other,
As handsome or as smart as he,
For he was her father, her hero,
There was nowhere that she'd rather be.


And she was his daughter of ten years,
His princess, his sweetheart, his love,
This evening they shared in her childhood,
Was a precious gift from above.


So they listened to crickets chirping,
And gazed at the stars in the sky,
And pointed out constellations,
As the evening slipped right on by.


Then he gathered up their belongings,
And back home they leisurely walked,
While she chattered about the fun she had,
And how she loved it when they talked.


They'll remember this night on the fairway,
As a simple yet precious event,
When together they strolled to the eighth green,
Then they'll wonder where all the time went.

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