Eighteen and so much to live for
Eighteen and happy about the direction the compass pointed
Full of the song that Spring sings to one
When all is of peace and not disjointed

Few were those days, few and fleeting
They seemed as fine sand that traverse the hour glass
Goodbye is uttered too close to the greeting
The vine grew ripe and the harvest came to pass

Where had you gone, where had you fled to?
I looked for you in an unceasing manner and could not unearth
Why did the sky not stay pure blue?
It was dark long before it could come to birth

I think on those days that were marked by duty
And there was happiness in the doing of it
There was someone to wait on, that precious thing of beauty
There was success to inherit

So old and so grey with age
The years have been unkind and too much
In my book of days there is no more than a page
The golden beads have dropped, are out of touch