La Luna

Dear Papa, at night i would open my window to touch the warm breeze that sang me to sleep every night the moon the last image to grace my eyes before slumber i grew up with mama telling me to be wary of the moon to never look through the glass at Her i was lucky i opened my window La Luna she could whisk the water and turn men into beasts

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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