Image credit: Tatiana Shirasaki tatiphoto.zenfolio.com
A tiny spark of history
Found purchase on a sprig
Smoldering remarkably
Born of the first war
Was her strength
Sister, friends, and husband lost
Tragedy fed the embers flickering red
She was protected but aware
So, she protected
Wounded and healed
She spoke out with pride
Watercolors decorated her life
In muted pastels and brilliant joy
Sharing abundance
Roots and branches grew an army
Who she nurtured
Taught
In her shadow
Sparks scattered to the wind
Small towns, big friends
Family
An irresistible conflagration
Along the way
She became a person
We can only dream of being:
The Centurion
One hundred years
The flame that burns white-hot forever
Caroline
Wife, mother, mentor, hero, friend
The Centurion takes to the sky
Her worn and well-kept tools left behind
As her fiery beacon
Lights our way home