(Photo of Patricia Lance, my mother, courtesy of Maria Lance, my daughter.)

I saw her practice smiling in the mirror crying Living it up on the outside while inside dying To live it down trying not to frown smile anyway Dutifully smiling like her mother taught her to The grin beneath the skin of the skeleton within Beautifully tragic like the magic she could do When it was over then again to make it begin Disappearing like the Cheshire Cat gone to this day Not forgotten though perhaps forgotten in the way She haunted would have wanted remembered for trying And haunting some of us somehow still left wanting now +Steven Curtis Lance Copyright MMXIII