San Fernando Hill Poem by Makeda Browne

Over San Fernando Hill
I see a fog below
The little cars go passing
While their numbers quickly grow
The houses like a stadium
The tournament at hand
It looks like rain's about to fall
Across this misty land

A couple sits along a bench
The wind blows through their hair
The trees above them gently wave
God's spirit feels so near
My hands against a lingay rope
I leave against my will
I shall remember my look over
The San Fernando Hill