A Missing Naughty Balloon Poem by Akhtar Jawad

Mrs. Black Hole, a balloon carrier,
with a long stick resting on her shoulder
held by her left hand,
and a flute in her right hand
being kissed by her lips,
her breaths blowing the flute
and playing a tune,
the tune of life!
She was not aware of puberty of a few balloons,
I don't know what happened with other naughty balloons,
but one I am aware of,
amorous and looking for a date,
unaware of her fate,
too innocent
and too ignorant
in search of a flirt
and romance,
a song and dance,
felt a centrifugal force
started inflating,
went on inflating,
and then it burst.
The balloon then knew
whatever she desired,
was present in her,
she was safe and secured,
in her mother's stick
and when she started spreading,
her beauty and ugliness were separated,
and now she has been facing
consequences of her naught,
helplessly spreading and looking for the day,
when Mrs. Black Hole gets her back,
picks all her broken pieces,
joins them and
when ugliness and beauty will fuse in each other,
and the naughty balloon will be seen once again,
I don't know whether she will repeat her naught,
or like other foolish balloons,
will remain stitched with the stick of her mother.