A new kind of fever had taken hold of me.
I could never shake it. No, I could not get free.

Whenever the sun shone palms started to itch,
My Heart beat much faster and my stomach would pitch.

I was seeing white spots, that appeared to my eyes
As tiny, round, white dots that flew thru the skies.

I began to feel caged-in and could not sit still.
My temperature would rise, but there wasn't a chill.

A desire overwhelmed me to be out of doors
Communing with nature - to reap its rewards.

I stared out my window... it seemed like for days,
My mind would get foggy and my eyes start to glaze;

When somebody spoke I did not understand
The things they were saying I did not comprehend.

My meals were all tasteless, no pleasure at all,
And I kept having urges to chase the dots that I saw.

I was getting nervous and anxious to be
Free of the fever that was plaguing me.

I went to my doctor, with tears in my eyes.
I told him my symptoms. It took many tries

For I was exhausted and almost done in
From fighting the fever that never did end.

With concern on his face and with practiced hand
He poked and he prodded and began the exam.

He tested and tested. It went on and on,
As I was sent hither and thither and yon.

The hospital tested, then tested some more
And I was quite ready to bold out the door.

As day followed day the tests would be begin.
They stuck me and stuck me with pin after pin.

That hospital gave every test that they knew
And I truly believe they invented a few.

They did not miss any; no, nary one,
But when it was over and their testing was done

They had no more knowledge than they had to begin.
My doctor revealed this, when he called me in.

He read off my symptoms... we spoke heart to heart;
When, all of a sudden, he jumped with a start.

He said, "It's all been here. All laid out for me;
Sometimes it's too simple. Why didn't I see?"

With a gleam in his eye, with an ear to ear grin,
He wrote this prescription to place in my hand:

You do have a fever, or maybe it's love.
It can not be cured, with the right club

You'll soon feel much better. So meet by nine
At Weissinger's Golf Course... and be there on time.

I still have a fever, but I'm feeling fine.
I meet Doc each Wednesday... promptly at nine.

We truly enjoy chasing tine, white dots
For Doc has A Fever and he sees the same spots.

Oh to stand tall on the grass that is bent
To address the small, white ball
Always makes me content.

Written by God's Grace
on
April 15, 1999
by
Colonel Eddie Lee Turner