Pure Delight And Rapture Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

T-wenty-fourth December,
E-arly Saturday morning;
R-aindrops don't fall,
E-ven if the storm is brewing.
S-hadows have disappeared
I-nto the dark of Friday night;
T-wilight is already gone,
A-s the beacon is burning bright.

I-t's a beautiful dawn,
B-ecause of the sunrise;
A-fter the dusk fades away,
S-lumber evades your eyes.
C-elebrate your birthday that brings a special pleasure;
O-pen your heart and mind to pure delight and rapture.