Eighteen

When I was only 18 I had 

Seen a lot of things

Living under Father’s thumb — 

To little hope, I’d cling.

I tried to stay away from home 

As often as I could

A little time to see the world 

Would do enormous good.

I saw it was much bigger than

My father would confess

And lots to keep one entertained — 

Goodness, we were blessed.

We saw all of the buildings and 

We loved to walk downtown.

Things did not go South until 

The time I settled down.

Way too young to think so big; 

Alas, I made mistakes.

And through all fault of my unknown, 

My heart would have to break.

Some would look at my life now

And think I never mended

But lack of my material needs

Has been my true unending.