On December's day of frosty grace, A beacon shines on young Beckham's face; Eight years stitched in time's grand weave, Golden candles flicker, one for each eve. In his smile, celestial fires, A grandson's dreams and bright desires. The world awaits, an open scroll, As golden birthdays mark his soul. He sprints through life with Beckham's flair, His feet alight, with wind and air. Eight years gone by, but just the start, A golden journey in his heart.