As countless waves washing across a beach, memories flood our souls.
With each surge, we sprint to grasp the treasures.
Pearls of wisdom, nurturing counsel, accounts of heroes past, riches from his heart.
Too many treasures to examine before the next wave rolls in.
Gems of wit, finely honed provocations, refined rebuttals, challenges to the mind.
The treasures, now finite, the bell has tolled.
We grieve for ourselves, the source of the treasures, now gone.
We are needy, humbled, in poverty of words to express our sorrow.
Tears flow, we cannot speak, the tides of Nature overcome.

Linda Kay Harrison
July 07, 2001

A postscript by Sid Harrison

My wife (Linda Kay) had only met Bob once many years ago at a family
get-together in Connorsville, Indiana but she and Bob had exchanged
numerous e-mails on a variety of subjects ranging from genealogy
research to poetry.

Bob never cared much for "free form" poetry and Linda is quite good at it. 
So she and Bob would exchange critiques on his efforts at that style of writing.
He gave her explicit instructions that I was NOT to read ANY of his attempts
at free form. She kept her word to you Bob. She has never showed them to me.