Wash The Dish Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

M-ist, haze, and Friday fog
A-re all nowhere to see;
R-aindrops and chill turn
I-nto Saturday's
E-cstasy.

A-llow the shadows to fade,
B-eacon has begun to shine;
A-iming to warm the day,
S-o the weather shall be fine.
T-wenty-eighth January morn
I-s filled with pure delight;
L-et the dusk disappear,
L-et it fade into the night.
A-s you learn things in life, your childhood acts diminish;
S-ince teenage days you know how to wash the dish.