Eight Gold Bracelets Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

J-ust let the fog fade,
H-aze and mist diminish;
E-vening shadows disappear,
L-et the wind chill vanish.
L-ight early Sunday morn
I-s rising above the horizon;
E-rasing the dark of night, bringing the dusk to oblivion.

C-old raindrops fifth February
A-re nowhere in sight;
S-un has already come
T-o take away the twilight.
R-emembering your birthday is forgetting the woes and frets;
O-pen your eyes and count your eight gold bracelets.