After presenting my wife with a picture of her, Mom and Dad's house, that I had an artist paint for her, and listening to the poem I wrote, "In this House," of their old home place, I stood proudly while my brother-in-law read the poem and 250 people sat with tears in their eyes and sobs in their tissues.

I walked into my niece's house with a simple sheet of paper in my hand. She was preparing to attend her son's funeral and sat crying by the window. I handed her the paper on which I had written the poem, "Hand-in-Hand." She wiped her eyes and read it, then stood up and hugged me.

"That is so beautiful Uncle Bob. How did you know, 'Lighthouses' were his favorite collection hobby?

I had printed the poem on a paper, with a beautiful, faded lighthouse in the background.

Poetry expresses what the spoken word sometimes can't!