The red hand at the corner glowing hot

The red hand at the corner, glowing hot,

starts its quick descent.

Ten, nine, eight. The pavement's not

wide enough, my patience spent.

Seven, six. The bus rolls past.

My feet shuffle, a nervous sound.

Can I make it across this fast?

Or will I be stuck on solid ground?

Three, two, one. The light goes red.

My heart jumps, a sudden beat.

Standing still, while cars rush ahead.

Just missed it, on this busy street.