A map of stories waiting to be told,
Of ink and art, and futures left to mold.
A mind that strips the clutter from the page,
To guide young hearts upon a changing stage.
A voice that honors craft and quiet pride,
With deep roots where the rolling waters glide,
Who knows the weight a single word can bear—
To lift, to heal, to breathe life in the air.
The gentle rhythm of a learning home,
Where wild and wondrous worlds are freely known,
And every creature, great or small, finds space
To teach us of the world’s untamed grace.
A steady hand that gathers up a team,
To paint the colors of a childhood dream,
And watches how a simple, quiet rhyme
Can echo through the changing halls of time.
No corporate noise, just truth and human bond,
A path that looks ahead and far beyond,
Weaving a legacy of love and light,
One beautifully unscripted word to write.
Heather Congrove 