“i have to flip a coin
a hundred times,” she said.
“it’s tiresome, just say
you’ve got a 48-52 result,” said I.
at night, i tried it.
“this is my last shot.
if i get a head, she’s mine.”
at the toss of a coin,
47-head
53-tail
i just sighed.
Filed under: Poetry, coin flipping, fate, toss coin
Concerned Citizens