too old for balloons?

on the cusp
the vertiginous brink
and a dizzying daring leap between
then and there
their way home and this half way house
a precipice that spells recipe
for disaster for certain
ice and a slippery slope

the boy hangs back
limp and lolling in limbo
like all forsaken playthings
when the fun fizzled out
when he grew too old to cling
is it a must to just up and cut the string?
the toy balloon hangs hesitantly there
then off and away in a rush of air
wavering without even a wave
- hard to admit how much he misses it

Prompted by the WP daily challenge Precipice as am uniting with others in the Poetry Pantry