The Beacon Is So Bright Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

C-old chill has passed by,
R-ain in torrents fades away;
I-nclement clime turns fine,
S-aturday night turns into Sunday.
T-wenty-fifth December
I-s the day of your birth;
N-ew dawn has broken,
A-s you feel a million mirth.

V-ile weather disappears,
E-arly light has come out;
R-ise of the sun starts,
A-s the tree branches sprout.
S-hadows are all gone,
T-wilight does the same;
I-t's a beautiful morn,
G-leams come from the flame.
U-nderneath the blue sky, mist is nowhere in sight;
E-vening haze has vanished, as the beacon is so bright.