The Little Match Girl

There lived a little match girl away in a village

A motherless child with least privilege

She lived with an unkind father who drunk quite a lot

She never complained though when beatings from him she got

She sold for him match sticks whenever she was told

Away from home she had to go even in the biting cold

It was snowing quite heavily that Christmas Eve

Nothing at home to eat, heavily a sigh she did heave

As usual she was sent out to sell some match sticks

So that for both of them a meal he could fix

She set out that evening for that task to complete

Covering with flimsy slippers her tiny little feet

She peered through windows straining as much as she could

The hungry child looked at tables laid out with food

She saw in the shops gifts bought for each other

Innocent and wide eyed she terribly missed her grandmother

Her matches, though, from her no one bought

It continued to snow, with the cold she bravely fought

The streets emptied slowly later in the evening

But she could never return home without her matches selling

Her father would beat her if she returned bare handed

Instead, she thought, she’d rather be stranded

She sat in a corner of two buildings outside

Hoping she could, from the bitter cold hide

If only she could strike a match to feel warm

Simple a wish, but for her a question of qualm

The snow stopped falling and the wind turned chill

Hungry and cold, thinking of nice things she sat still

The harshness of life the little one could no longer bear

If only a warm coat now she could wear

She struck a match and felt the warm glow

In its light she saw a welcoming stove

Delighted she held out her tiny hands and feet

Grateful to the embers she basked in the heat

It seemed so real she never did doubt

It was only a dream, the match had burned out

Another match she struck and there she saw a table

Laid out with food fit for a king in a fable

Roast goose, chicken, pudding, ice-cream and pies

It seemed so real, it could never be otherwise

But again for the hungry child the dream never lasted

Another match had been sorrowfully wasted

To make the dream last forever and ever

She lit all the match sticks she had together

And in the light which shone bigger and brighter

She saw to her amazement her loving grandmother

She hugged her so tightly enough to almost smother

Together they vanished into thin ether

The town awakened the next morn to celebrate

But for the match girl it certainly was too late

They saw her still form in the corner huddled

Beside her lay burnt match sticks, an empty basket she cuddled

Her face radiant with a smile as never seen before

The little match girl had left forever, she would suffer no more.

Bindu Vidyadhar