by Abigaile Biñas Hechanova

A place of day and sunlit nights,
The place of silent , wistful sighs,
With soft vapor tossed in waves of breeze,
Where decay and death is not an option,
Flowers bloom and growth is free,
The grains are fine and colors ranged,
Where life would grow in different shades,
Where fear and hatred, not allowed,
Where flow is one current,
And balance is a virtue,
The place bloom is fast,
And present's past,
Where grace is restored,
And blues are bored,
Where order stays and no one lies,
Where all is bliss and never dries.

-Abigaile Biñas Hechanova

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