When You Were An Infant Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

R-ise of the sun begins,
O-n twenty-second January;
M-orning opens the day
W-ith much mirth and glee.
E-arly Sunday red beacon
L-ets the dusk turn into dawn;
L-ong night and cold chill are both already gone.

R-aindrops stop to fall,
E-vening shadows disappear;
V-ile weather has turned
I-nto warmth, joy, and cheer.
T-ime has flown so fast, dark has become radiant;
A-s you turn back the clock, when you were an infant.