Death Watches

A vision through the haze of time and rhyme a mirrored beauty, Helen sits and waits. I see her through the window for it's late, at dawn, I'll bring her death, for she's not mine. As yet, the key's not turned in lock sublime, and I will stand and wait as fear dictates. The Master's carriage leaves at half past eight then I approach the shrouded outer gate. Through the door and to Helen's room, I run, and grasp her tightly to my beating chest. I tear the cloth from her and she's undone. Helen prays for her Paris dispossessed, as on the satin sheets my stanchion drums out of fight and breath, she acquiesced.