Clockwatching

I pace myself,

as your tiny hands slowly move,

ticking in perfect time,

yet always make me cringe with anticipation,

making the minutes feel like hours, which feel like days.

You slowly move, second by second,

tick

tick

…tick

how much longer?

I can no longer bear it.

Are you nearly ready?

I’m dying to get out of this place,

I have somewhere else to go,

I’d rather be anywhere else,

more than you’d ever know.

But you’re just doing your job,

how boring it seems,

I need to snap out of this,

or is this all a dream?