A Barter With Death

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…And every night Death
Crept from the shadows of the room.
Laying in wait, counting breaths
Of her lover doomed.

It would whisper to the maid in waiting –
It’s his time now.
And she would plead with joined hands
Sweat painting her noble brow.

One night livid Death grew weary –
His time is done, his destiny is set.
The maiden whispered thus to Death –
Please, take me instead.

The barter was done,
And Death had won.
The lover awoke
But his love was gone…