Crescent
The moon is fresh, only a sickle now. Summer has finally, shily come (will it stay?), I open my balcony door and find the moon, scrunch up your eyes: you see the whole of the moon!
Mai
17
The moon is fresh, only a sickle now. Summer has finally, shily come (will it stay?), I open my balcony door and find the moon, scrunch up your eyes: you see the whole of the moon!