The Balloon

The Balloon Imagine, if you will, a deflated balloon It has no significance, just a dried up prune But you decide to blow it up, expand its puny girth And you blow and blow your breath, for all of your worth At first, the balloon is just of an average size But you continue onwards until right before your eyes This sphere of air consumes half of the room It pushes you off your chair and into the gloom Yet you keep on blowing, you don't know how to stop You're being forced into the corner, behind a dirty mop Until eventually you're trapped beneath this monstrous ball You push it and you push it but it does no good at all Now if only you had a pin with which to prick it That precious pin, you'd know just right where to stick it You could watch in sheer relief as the air whooshed from the room And this mutant globe once again became a dried up prune Alessandra Liverani Sydney, Australia