Tension

Eyes glance quickly at the clock,
Feel each long second tick by.
Frustrated muscles, anxious minds,
Wish that time could fly.

Hushed voices, whispered plans,
Fill the space with a dull roar.
Fidgeting, squirming, and wondering,
What all the waiting's for.

Patience worn too thin,
Tension stretched too tight,
Like a taut, unyielding drum skin,
Yanked with all your might.

Who are these tense, taut people?
What makes them so on edge?
Why cannot they relax
And rest their weary heads?

Are they restless soldiers
Awaiting the signal to fire?
Or Atlas with his mighty limbs,
Holding the world up ever higher?

Perhaps they're NASA scientists,
With a shuttle to launch soon?
No- 8th period language arts,
On a Friday afternoon.