Our First Road Trip Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

I've not been one
to tell you how to drive.
It's your car, your gas.
I'm here for the ride.
Right now,
it's up to you
when we arrive.
But this is what I'm seeing
from my side.
When fearing that
we're moving way too fast,
you panic,
citing doubts and finding fault,
as somehow, something here
reflects the past
which brings our journey
to a grinding halt.
I don't expect
you'll trust me with the wheel.
Not asking!
You can navigate this maze.
And though I cannot change
the way you feel,
I'm here for you.
You have my faith and praise.
Believe me,
objects in the rear-view mirror
are much more wonderful
than they appear.