Make The Day Sublime Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

R-ise of the beacon begins,
U-nderneath the blue sky;
B-athing your head and heart,
Y-our eyes will never cry.

A-llow your mind to think
N-othing but of your birth;
N-ever let your life ignore the joy of the million mirth.

M-ist, haze, and fog
A-re nowhere to be found;
R-aindrops from above
C-ome not to the ground.
I-n second of December, I've penned a simple rhyme;
A-iming to soothe your soul and make the day sublime.