The Flame Is Burning Bright Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

T-wenty-seventh December,
E-arly Tuesday morning light;
R-ise of the beacon begins,
E-rasing the darkest night.
S-hadows beneath the sky disappear into the air;
A-llow the sun to bring brightness to the affair.

E-vening chill fades away,
S-eeking to go to sleep;
T-he warmth from above
O-nly the heart can keep.
C-oal black clouds up high
H-ave truly turned white;
E-very line is silver, as the flame is burning bright.