It was the dance with death
That set her apart.
The one where she survived
But others of course did not.

Death's cold bone fingers
Wrapped around her scrawny frame
And onto the dance floor they went
To decide her precarious fate.

For the young girl lay dying
In a lonely hospital bed.
Where her only comfort that lay
Was that she wasn't already dead.

Only Death could tell
If she would live through the night.
And it seemed like she would
As they danced away from the light.

Soon the doctors would see
The miracle of her breath.
As she woke up next morning,
Free of the dance with Death.