I ride
up,
up,
up.
My nail picks at the
peeling paint.
The sun beats down upon me.
Forming beads of sweat on my neck.
The cart comes
to a jerking stop
at the top.
I close my eyes
when we start moving again.
The wind blows against my burnt face.
I breathe in
the sweet smell of
hot dogs
and hamburgers
and cotton candy
as they fill my nostrils.
I wish to be young again.
Young. Innocent.
On this Ferris Wheel.
Because growing old,
it just ain't right.
On this Ferris Wheel,
I forget that I was upset.
I forget that I am growing old.
I feel young again,
on this Ferris Wheel.