His spirit it now lingers

On the crisp air of this place

Like the way his ball would hang

That slight smile on his face

The green seems to have faded

Somehow lost it’s edge

The traps are that much deeper

Less useful is this wedge

I can still feel him here

This place he felt at home

His memory surrounds me

But I am teeing up alone

When I lose sight of my ball

As it climbs within the sky

I swear that I can see him

For his spirit it now flies