Rylan Abbott Poet Free verse

Surfing

Glinting and winking,
Bending to the will of the air.

The coin worked its way down:
Slowly,

Heads over tails.

The coin refused certainty.
And undecided it fell:

Heads over tails,

Down,
          Down,
                    Down.

Until, 
The pure bronze hovered,
Above the ground.

Without will or decision,
It turned one last time,
To leave its face,
To stare at the sky.

Down, 
          Down,
                    Down,

Reached the boy.
Picking up the decided coin.

He Frowned,
Flipping the coin in his hand.

And,
Looking away,
It hit the ground.

He walked back to his bike,
Eagerly awaiting his return.

Only to be dragged away,
Leaving the forked road behind.

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