The Gift

As I lay across the floor,

from my body life did pour.

My time had come or so I thought,

I was neither happy nor distraught.

My mind clear awaiting my fate,

but to my surprise death was late.

I lie awaiting the dreaded guest,

ready to journey at his behest.

But it seemed he was delayed,

as my wounds began to fade.

I rose to my feet petrified.

By all accounts I should have died.

My life that day I did reclaim

as the reaper  simply never came.

But reapers, you see, are a punctual sort,

no life extended or cut short.

The lives led are as intended,

never mistakenly spared or ended.

I took it to mean all was well,

hearing nary a trumpet, nor toll of the bell .        

So off I went to continue my life

unaware of others’ strife.

For my life another had paid.

Forever to a rest this soul was laid.

A kinder person there was no other.

A life given for another.

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