Author Archives: Paul John Roach

Poem about Growing up in a Golf Club

Worlds separate us now.I have tiptoed across the creaking floorof the locker roomwith its bits of grass stuck to the floorboardsand odd scratchy golfballs kept in cardboard trays,closed the doorand gone down the brown, waxshined staircaseto the bar and the boys. I’ve looked my last illicit look with youfrom my grandparents’ roomin the top of […]

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