Just Eighteen Poem by Steve Howard

Mab and I were sweethearts,
when we were just eighteen.
I the strutting rooster,
she the faerie queen.
We would go a wandering,
when we were just eighteen.
Searching for those ins and outs,
and all that in between.
We would slip behind the dunes,
when twilight came to call,
and there discuss the mystery,
not saying anything at all.
Later on within the midnight,
clothed in starlight's silver hue,
I would tell Mab that I loved her,
and she would say she loved me too.
All these times have gone away,
like morning mist upon the stream.
There but in a moment gone.
In a heartbeat it would seem.
Yet how sweetly come the memories,
of the things we've done and seen.
Somewhere Mab and I are holding hands,
and we are just eighteen.