I count to infinity when there’s nothing else to do
And I can’t stop looking at the time,
Even though I know it’s not speeding anything up.
I stand under a tree and hide from the light drizzle.
I can’t tell if it’s ending or just beginning.
The sky is gray. The bus is delayed.
The breeze comes and goes.
I wait for what feels like forever while the cars are speeding by.
Waiting twenty five minutes for a forty five minute ride home.
By Cristina WilCraft