I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds on my hand.
The journey has begun, around me, a nauseous dome.
I sit there, I wait, wait for the motherland.
I imagine my feet running in the sand.
My mind, in an endless roam.
I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds on my hand.
The moving carts are like a loud, unsynchronized band.
The noises overwhelm, but the clouds outside a calm, soft foam.
I sit there, I wait, wait for the motherland.
I watch them waiting for the dreamland.
Rotting away, still as a garden gnome.
I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds on my hand.
I listen softly to the music strand.
The journey is at its end, around me, a sleepy dome.
I sit there, I wait, wait for the motherland.
The long, long minutes we all have to withstand.
I just want to go home.
I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds on my hand.
We sit there, we wait, wait for the motherland.
McCallum High School
10