Dices and Vices

He spun the dice twice or thrice. He wasn’t sure, maybe more.

On the table lay a tray, he jumbled and mumbled even gambled.

His eyes wandered to left and right, the focal point can be uptight.

The wheel of fortune like a fountain, to be exact- hills and mountains.

He stroke his beard along the song, his vision of moon like a toon.

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