Excerpts of a poem that written in Tim’s memory:
Death entered the concert,
And left,
Riding above the guitars,
Smelling of salt and blood
And dark tidal pools, carrying you away somewhere
Into worlds we have not yet imagined
Tim the explorer
Moving almost aimlessly
Making the first finds
One dark grey morning
Biking to morning class
The first red rose bud
Beside the river
One windy winter morning
The first thrown snowball
A hot August night
At a concert with friends
First heaven sighting
Star-filled summer grove:
Tim’s life a blazing comet
In the still dark night.