Probabilities, statistics

Uncontrollable and free

Yet, despite those facts

Me,

Me, a naive child

I picked up a decaying rusty penny

Off the tacky purple and green carpet

Dashing to a spiral wishing well 

Pressing the penny into its slot

The whirring noise

Copper grinding against the well’s cheap plastic

Racing around its black track

The coin, slowly, but surely

Makes its way to the hole, 

Joining the hopes of other children

Seconds before the coin reaches its end

I silently make a wish

A wish that could possibly not happen, 

But nevertheless I feel sure

The coin finally spins into the hole 

I softly grin,

Knowing nothing in my life,

Could ever be in my control