Anti-Cipation (Rhodes part 6, the last leg)

The clock hands move so slowly,
Every second feels like and hour,
Every minute like a day.
I will those hands to move but I have no power.

I love my home, I miss my animals.
And I am ready to depart.
But the waiting is a catalyst,
For impatient mind to start.

I grow grumpy and short tempered,
It takes effort to control my words.
Yet I retain my composure,
When others are loosing theirs.

Another hour waiting for transport,
Then another four to fly.
It feels a week has passed so fast.
Yet I am ready for goodbye.

A final efcharisto to our hosts,
Then it's time to board the bus.
I feel like we are cattle crammed together
But a necessary journey that we must.

I know I'll fail and fall asleep.
When my arse sits down upon that plane.
I will most likely wake on landing.
Then I'll be home again.