Burning Flame Awaits Ahead Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

T-he moon passes by,
R-ise of the sun begins;
I-t's a lovely Sunday,
C-old rugged wind ends.
I-t's a beautiful morn, the twilight is gone;
A-bove the new horizon, the light meets the beacon.

I-t's a wonderful dawn,
N-ineteenth day of March;
V-ile weather turns fine,
E-vening rain is parched.
N-ight shadows disappear,
T-ime to leave the bed;
O-nward for warmth and shine, burning flame awaits ahead.