Making You Hang On
J-ust let the Sunday beacon
O-pen the morn with light;
Y-our birthday has come,
D-enying the chill of night.
E-arly twenty-sixth February,
L-onely evening passes by;
R-ise of the sun begins,
O-ne flame brightens the sky.
S-hadows, mist, and haze
A-re brought to oblivion;
R-iding a roller coaster
I-s making you hang
O-n.
Copyright © Bernard F. Asuncion | Year Posted 2017
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