The prompt was fairly self-evident so I chose to basically commemorate a decent round of golf and drinking afterwards. Enjoy:
I remember the way the willow branches
brushed against skin in a kindly way;
as though it were the teasing touch of a lover.
I remember how the sound of enamel
on steel as it’s struck was like the pounding
of a fresh chalk against a paving stone.
I remember how the wind swirled
and fell through the summer air as though
it were dying for it’s chosen art.
I remember how the taste of
oranges was sweeter than dew in
the uncut grasses beneath the copse.
I remember the elation at
the rattling; the sinking of ball into
cup after wayward adventures.
I remember the taste of victory; an explosion
of malt – hints of wood-smoke burning
their way down my throat.