for Patricia Lance Rambler American painted powder blue Shut the door at four in 1959 Riding shotgun not quite knowing what to do There I was crazy where Mom said we were fine As a mother does and I suppose she was Maybe we may be OK the day after Whatever we asked forever was to be OK or at least not in pain not the way We heard about of those who live without love So maybe we were already anyway For all she knew as we grew up together Tomorrow never comes though we do what we can But hearing the nervousness in her laughter I thought it must be hard to be a mother Because it was to be a son I would say When I understood then we had each other Always did as always will and still today Doing what I can tomorrow an old man I think of her how we were now in that car Rambler American eye for the weather Rambler American having come this far +Steven Curtis Lance Copyright MMXII