Poem By Carmina Abrenica

Not every hill dreams to become a mountain.
A stretch of a small terrain it may be but its worth is certain.
It may not resemble a perfect cone nor stand as a high ground.
Yet it is pleased with its greenery within and all around. Happy just as it is, it thrives in its humble existence.
It glows in the sunshine and even in its absence.
Its own vastness and profundity make it beautiful in every way.
Never will it shy away from blue skies and even from clouds of gray.

10/27/18 12: 15 AM

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