Rory Mcllroy

In emerald fields where fairways gleam,
A Northern star chased every dream.
With club in hand and eyes of fire,
He carved his path, climbed ever higher.

A swing like silk, yet forged in flame,
A quiet storm that changed the game.
From Hollywood’s small patch of green,
To Masters' dreams and global scene.

He walks the course with measured grace,
Yet fury lives behind his face.
When pressure mounts and crowds all lean,
He strikes with calm, precision, and keen.

Four majors won, yet still he strives,
For more than just the trophy lives.
It’s love of craft, the art, the test,
To play not perfect, but his best.

And though the road is never clear,
Through loss, through doubt, and through each new year
Rory stands, resilient still,
With iron will and boundless skill.