I look from the top of the ferris wheel wonder what it is like from the ground.
They say, everything that goes up must come down,
But doubt creeps in as I, stuck fast to this seat,

Began at the top of the wheel.

And that wheel is stuck
On a cool night in a summer fantasy
Where the shouts of the distant ground barely reach me in the sky.
Nothing will shake me in my pastel-painted seat
And sweat on the backs of my thighs anchor me here.

I am so far away from it all 
That sometimes I wish that I could
Remove the safety bar and leap into the air
And hover casually, finally able to observe what happens when a top-seat-dweller
Finally reaches the bottom.

But that’s a silly thought,
As I skipped the line to sit on this seat,
On top of the world. I wouldn’t give up this spot
For anything.