The Blithe

There is nothing special when the night comes.
The night still same as the night before.
Looking for something that can kill my fears,
Then in sudden I find my blithe.

Comes from across the seas,
Don't know how far it is.
But it can make me in colour,
And the blue will be in anger.

Sit tight till the time works on it own,
Trying my best not to let down.
'Cause waiting is not too terrify,
Even it can be blissful or melancholy.


MITHA WUNIKHA
J1A016062