I watch how you still ponder during the flipping;
heads up or under, there is no telling
how the rolling coin may fall, nor where exactly.
It’s landing on the edge. Now what.
Why wait at all to go away?
The die has now been cast. It does not matter
how the coin falls or how dice roll, what I feel.
Though the penny is still rolling,
no heads nor tails are making up our minds
with the blinking coin for ever spinning.
This is the last game that we play.
The coin rolls on, we let it pass
out of our sight under the skirting.
Decisions have been made without its say.
‘t Was heads. I am so sure it was.