An Ode to Willoughby Bowls Club

On the emerald lawn, where dreams unfold,
Young and old, their stories told.
Men and women, in equal measure,
Gather ‘neath the sun’s warm treasure.

With polished bowls, they take their stand,
A tapestry of skill across the land.
Youthful exuberance meets seasoned grace,
In this timeless game, each finds their place.

The gentle roll, the measured pace,
A symphony of motion, a graceful chase.
From eager youth to wisdom’s grey,
All find joy in this gentle play.

The laughter rings, the tension hums,
As competitors of all ages come.
No matter the years, no matter the stage,
In lawn bowls, all find their sage.

For in this sport, age knows no bounds,
As camaraderie and skill resound.
Together they play, in harmony’s blend,
Where time stands still, and friendships mend.

So here’s to the wonder of lawn bowls’ delight,
Where young and old compete in the light.
A game where age and gender fade away,
And only the joy of play holds sway