From an early age, Tim noticed that Michael attracted girls… lots of girls. And not only did Michael attract girls, but they seemed mesmerized by his presence. Tim spoke of, as early as when they were in elementary school, that when he found himself walking beside Michael, Tim would watch in wonder as the school girls moved to the edge of the hallway, opening a path for Michael to walk along—just like the parting of the Red Sea—so that the girls could stop and gawk at Michael as he strolled by. Tim said the girls’ eyes would never leave Michael, they’d never even glance towards Tim (who called himself the mutt of the family).
For Michael’s 25th birthday, Tim wrote a poem that started his tradition that all immediate family members were blessed with: a personal poem. Tim’s first poem, to his big brother Michael, “The Wizard of Women.”
The Wizard of Women
By Tim Conover
There’s a story that’s told
Wherever we wander,
It’s a legend, it seems,
Filled with envy and honor.
We hear it at gatherings,
Mountains and parks,
On airplanes and beaches,
That guy with the harps.
He’s the modern pied-piper,
Like mice to their cheese,
His harmonics and music
Bring girls to their knees.
It’s an intangible spark
You just can’t quite hold…
We’ve seen others try it,
Their dreams turn quite cold.
He enters the room
With a casual walk,
The room turns to silence
The girls start to gawk.
The men flicker with fright
And try to envision
How he sparks passion
In all of those women.
A few minutes pass,
The news starts to spread—
He smiles, embarrassed,
Girls dance in his head.
They gather around him
At the thought of a chance,
Their minds start to wander
For more than a dance.
The fellows are flustered—
They just can’t quite see,
They start tripping and stumbling,
But can’t find the key.
The girls see it clearly—
The guy’s hearts grow dim,
An aura of color,
The light shines on him.
The sparkle of envy,
The light before dawn,
The dream world of women
The legend lives on.
He’s a spirited fellow:
Plays baseball and swims,
Plays football and Frisbee—
He constantly wins.
Writes music and lyrics,
And plays in a band,
Has a way with the ladies—
They go hand in hand.
We have seen it all happen,
The story’s the same:
The leader, the lover—
It’s all just a game.
On the toss of a coin
Lady Luck flips his way:
You’ll lose your nickel,
He’ll wish you good day.
The girls see him dreamy,
The boys are all blue,
The ladies are subtle,
The women are true.
The fever is fierce,
The fire burns strong,
The notes start to bend—
They are playing his song.
It’s an honor to know him—
A rainbow, a vision,
The story of Michael:
The Wizard of Women.