THE QUARTER

There was a quarter on the floor.
’Twas closer to your place than mine,
So I placed it right by your door,
Hoping our eyes would thus align.

For you might find it standing in
The thin crevice ’tween wood and frame,
And know my secret hand had been
Involved in this coin-placing game.

Then we might meet and share a laugh
About how I had worked it out
To keep the change on your behalf
And finders-keepers standard flout.

But lo! What a strange circumstance
To find this fine ploy thwarted so
By divine design or pure chance.
Has the quarter moved at all? No.