There was a lone child
Who wakes up even before the sun does
Who writes something in her room
Then inflates a red balloon

Only to find out
That a prayer, she has written down
Will tie it to the balloon
Then set it free to the sky dome

It was her morning routine
Thinking the angels above
Will easily hear and see her prayers
Because she always pray and gets nothing

It was her morning routine
Thinking that the earlier she prays
The earlier she'll be answered
Because she always wait, wait and wait

It was her daily routine
She never gets tired of it
She will always knot a prayer to a balloon
Until someday, that someone might finally hear her