No Golf Today
Angry clouds harangue the sky,
Pass before my searching eye.
Wet cement of raindrop grey,
Not a chance of golf today.
Perhaps I'll read, watch T.V.
Call some friend or have some tea.
It is that, or back to sleep
And I don't like counting sheep.
It's late I could wake my spouse,
"God forbid," we'd clean the house.
I guess I'll just lounge my chair and
Rest my feet on the footstool there.
I'll read to surcease the sorrow
And hope for sunshine tomorrow.